


long be hidden

by AquaQuadrant



Series: rewrite the stars [1]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure, Tangled (2010), Tangled: The Series (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Child Abuse, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Nonbinary Character, Other, and a liiiiittle bit of fluff, and varian's been sentenced to community service, based on our wonderful oc whom we love very much, cult practices, mentions of torture, moon theory varian, nonbinary OC, quirin is dead, takes place after the events of secret of the sundrop, this is the au that snowprincess-artist and i have been yelling abt on tumblr for the past week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-10 05:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaQuadrant/pseuds/AquaQuadrant
Summary: When Varian is kidnapped by a mysterious cult following who aim to unleash the power of the moon inside of him, he discovers things about himself, his family, and the kindred spirit who saves him in more ways than one.





	1. waning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi readers! If you frequent tumblr then you'll already know what this is about. snowprincess-artist and I have this tangled OC that we adore, their name is Perilune and they're a member of this moon cult snow's been workshopping for a while. Basically, the idea is that Varian was born with moon powers but doesn't know, and is kidnapped by this cult that wants to unleash them on the world. Perilune, indoctrinated at a young age, decides to help Varian escape, and they fall in love along the way. This is that story, and the first of many featuring these two precious, broken kids.
> 
> Read on and enjoy, and please don't hesitate to leave a comment! - Aqua

_Three things cannot long be hidden; the sun, the moon, and the truth. - Buddha_

~*~

_chapter one - waning_

~*~

It was an early day.

Thick, smooth clouds hung low in the gray morning sky, barely clearing the tops of the highest buildings. The cobblestone streets were full of people, as they always were. Iveria was one of the largest trade cities in Corona, possibly even larger than the capital city itself. Well connected as it was to numerous roads, it brought many travelers through each day, peddling their wares or looking for work.

It wasn’t the cleanest city, nor the quietest or the most pleasant, but to Perilune, it was home.

They stood in the open doorway of the cathedral as they did every morning, a stack of pamphlets clutched in their arms. Their dark hair was pulled into its usual style; a thick braid down the back, with the shorter strands loosely framing their face and blowing in the slight breeze. They’d washed their robes the day before, the rich navy-blue fabric melting over warm, brown skin. Appearances were important, Perilune had been told. No one would want to take a pamphlet from them if they looked a mess.

Fortunately, that didn’t seem to be a problem today. Person after person passed through the tall wooden doors, each of them similar in their constitution; poor, weary, destitute. Many of them were children. Some didn’t give Perilune so much as a glance, ignoring the offered pamphlet. Others took it with an awkward smile, while the more regular visitors would give them a polite nod. Most only came for the free food served at the end of the sermon. That was okay; after all, that had been the only reason Perilune had come at the start.

A familiar looking boy, about nine years of age, slunk up the steps to the cathedral. He’d been attending for almost three months now, but was still embarrassed for relying on their charity. It was a common feeling.

Perilune offered the child a smile as they held out the pamphlet. It had taken hours to carefully ink all of them last night, the highlights of the morning’s sermon and some other important information written out in elegant, yet easy to read, calligraphy. There were a few ink spots here and there, but ultimately Perilune was proud of their work. Only one or two pages had been accidentally ruined out of the bunch, and their wrists didn’t even sting anymore from the punishment, the angry welts hidden beneath their bronze arm bracers.

The boy took the pamphlet with a muttered thanks, his brown eyes hollow with hunger and exhaustion like all the other children. But beneath it… perhaps a spark of warmth and familiarity. Relief brought by the promise of a hot meal, in the company of those who accepted him when he was cast out from everywhere else.

Perilune was quite fond of this one; he reminded them of themselves when they were younger. The name he’d given them, Franz, might’ve been a fake, but that wouldn’t matter. They had a feeling he’d be joining them soon enough, and they hoped he’d get to stay. Most of the time, new members went to live at the other locations. And though Perilune understood that it was necessary, and they all had a duty to fulfill, it would be nice to have a friend.

“Welcome, Franz,” Perilune said gently. “I hope you enjoy this morning’s service.”

Franz gave them a hesitant smile in return before vanishing into the cathedral.

~*~

Varian leaned against the wall of his room.

(His cell.)

Muscles sore from a hard day’s work, energy spent- and yet he knew sleep wouldn’t come. It wasn’t like today had been a _bad_ day. Repairing, cleaning, and organizing all the tack for the royal horses hadn’t been hard, even with his guards breathing down his neck like they always did.

Community service. There were far worse punishments, Varian supposed.

It had been his sentence for almost two months, now. In the beginning, he’d despised it. Such a sentence was almost humiliating, as if minimalizing the horrors of the crimes he’d committed. But he’d choked down his bitterness. His father was dead, a lifeless body forever sealed within a crystal prison of his own design, so Varian deserved whatever fate dealt him. It was a dizzying contradiction; he felt he’d suffered enough for a lifetime, and yet could never be punished enough for what he’d done.

He almost wished he still believed in revenge. Everything was simpler, then. He longed for that inner fire, that rage and hatred and _conviction._ It would at least be enough to fill this unbearable emptiness inside him, the kind that made everything from talking to eating to _living_ seem pointless.

When he’d had a goal, a _drive,_ he’d had something to distract himself from his grief. Constantly planning and revising and constructing so that he never stood still long enough to sink into despair. But all these menial tasks the king had sentenced him to? They weren’t the same. His heart wasn’t in it, and his mind could hardly be bothered. All that was left to consume his every waking thought was his pain, and when night fell, it consumed his dreams, too.

He had nothing left but his suffering.

A soft nose pushed into his hand, and Varian glanced down to see Ruddiger looking up at him. The raccoon chirped inquisitively, rubbing against his side in a comforting way.

Varian managed a small smile, scratching Ruddiger behind the ears. Correction; all he had left was his suffering, and Ruddiger. Not for the first time, he felt grateful for the animal’s presence, though his reasons for staying were beyond him.

“I don’t know why you still hang around me, Ruddiger,” Varian murmured quietly. “After what I did to you… I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave. I just ruin everything.”

Ruddiger chittered back at him, and it almost sounded like he was trying to reassure him.

Varian sighed, letting his head tip back against the stone. “I appreciate it, buddy.”

His words were hollow, despite himself. That’s what his life was now, _hollow._ He’d lost everything, his whole life going up in smoke because of a single mistake, and he had no one to blame but himself. He still resented the king for doing nothing about the black rocks, Rapunzel for not being there for him when he’d needed her. The kingdom, for turning their backs on him. But he wasn’t so blinded anymore to continue to believe that he wasn’t at fault.

After all, it had been _his_ little experiment that had created the amber in the first place.

Varian closed his tired eyes, fighting back the sting of tears. He’d already cried enough. Crying wouldn’t change anything. Crying wouldn’t bring his dad back. It was pointless, and a waste of time, and- and- and-

Varian lost the battle, his shoulders shaking as he bit back a sob. Tears ran hot down his face, and all he could do was curl up and wait for it to pass.

It always did, eventually. 

~*~

Perilune dipped the mop back into the bucket, swirling it in the soapy water.

Their feet were starting to long for a break, having had no time to rest after their walk from the cathedral back home to the compound, the main location of the Servants of the Lunar Temple. The service that morning had been as enjoyable as they always were; which is to say, not very. Perilune would never say this out loud, but they hardly listened to the preachings so much as they watched the guests in attendance, standing unnoticed in the back while waiting to serve the meal afterwards. Over the years, they’d gotten quite good at reading people, picking up on their emotions and thoughts and troubles.

The weary children who fell asleep in the pews, the lost and alone desperate for a purpose, the guilt-ridden sinners searching for redemption; Perilune knew them all. They’d _been_ them all.

Sometimes, Perilune could tell when someone wouldn’t be coming back again. Maybe they’d managed to get themselves back on their feet and didn’t need the charity anymore, maybe they were a traveler who was about to move on. Or worst of all; they’d found the Temple’s message unsettling, and closed themselves off from it.

When this happened, Perilune’s heart would ache for them. The knowledge that they had lost another soul to the world of evil was hard to bear. 

But what made it all worthwhile was witnessing the moment the Temple’s words reached someone. Watching hope spark in long dead eyes, the realization that they had finally found their place… it was incomparable.

That was why they preferred the cathedral, with its vaulted ceilings and stained glass, but it was too central to the city for most of the Servant’s purposes. The compound was right on the outskirts of Iveria, remote and with plenty of room for training grounds and to stable the Templar’s horses. Inside there were many rooms; living quarters, archives, classrooms, the armory, and the forbidden Inner Sanctum only High Priest Umbra was allowed to enter. Perilune had never seen the chamber, and neither had most of the Servants; it was only to be used in the most sacred rituals.

There was also this lower level, deep below the ground. Thick, stone walls lined with candle sconces, and tiled floors. It had been a pain carrying the water bucket down the winding staircase, but Perilune knew better than to complain.

They stopped for a moment to inspect their work, wiping their forehead with their sleeve. The floor sparkled, wet tiles glistening in candlelight. They’d gotten most of the blood off, save for a few stains in the tile grout that would have to be scrubbed by hand. It had been quite the mess; the dirty water was a muddy red, and Perilune wondered what exactly the Templars had _done_ to the prisoner. They didn’t even know who the man had been, just that he was an enemy of the Servants, and his questioning had taken _days._

But he must’ve eventually broken, as they all did, because Perilune was here now, in his empty cell. And whatever he’d told the Templars must’ve been big, because the entire Servitude was in a frenzy, preparing for something of great importance. The Acolytes had already canceled tomorrow’s services. The Templars were gearing up to ride at dusk. There were even whispered rumors among fellow Patrons that the Chosen One had been found, the Moon Child spoken of in prophecy.

But Perilune didn’t put much stake in rumors. The prophecy had never stated _when_ the Moon Child would emerge. And the Servants of the Lunar Temple had been around for centuries; the odds of it happening now were slim. For all they knew, they would live out their entire life without it coming to pass, as many had before them.

Pushing the thought away, Perilune got back to work.

~*~

Heavy footsteps neared the door.

Varian sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. He’d managed to fall into an uneasy sleep, Ruddiger curled up beside him. He hadn’t had a full night’s rest in a long time, always startled awake by nightmares, so he could only manage light dozing. Which was why he was so easily woken up.

He frowned at the door before glancing at his small, barred window. It was still pitch-black outside. Why were the guards coming for him in the middle of the night?

Careful not to disturb Ruddiger, Varian slipped out of bed, pushing down his annoyance. It wasn’t _that_ much of a loss. He might as well get… _whatever_ it was, over with, and not keep the guards waiting.

The lock turned, and the door swung open, light flooding into the room. Three tall men in bronze helmets stood before him, armor glistening beneath dark blue robes.

Varian stared at them. The part of his brain that was actually working was at once certain he must still be asleep, dreaming.

The men seemed to stare back for a moment, eyes hidden behind metal visors, before one of them stepped forward. Instinctively, Varian took a step back, his hands coming up defensively-

“Moon Child.” The man swept into a low bow, his deep voice filtering through his helmet. “At long last. We are ever your devoted and humble servants.”

Varian blinked at him, creasing his brows together. “Huh? Wha- what are you talking about?” A thought occurred to him, and he jolted. “Where are the guards?”

“They have been taken care of, for the time being.”

Unease formed a knot in Varian’s stomach. They were… breaking him out? “Moon Child- what do you mean _Moon Child?_ Who are you?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady. “What do you want?”

“We are the Servants of the Lunar Temple.” All three spoke as one, making Varian jump, before the leader dipped his head. “The time has come, Moon Child. The prophecy awaits.”

“Prophecy?” Varian desperately wished things would start making sense again. “What _prophecy,_ I- I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

The leader seemed to hesitate. “But… surely you know?”

“Know _what?”_ Varian demanded, frustration overpowering his fear and confusion for a moment. Three hooded strangers show up to his cell in the dead of night, speaking in cryptic riddles, and he was just supposed to _automatically_ know what they meant?

The leader spread his hands. “You are the one we have been waiting centuries for, chosen by the moon to bring deliverance to this world and begin anew. Come with us, and fulfill your destiny, Moon Child.”

A chill ran down Varian’s spine. Those words… they didn’t mean anything to him, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling- no. No, this was _insane._ Chosen by the moon- did they even _hear_ themselves? He shook his head, frantically trying to clear it.

The leader took another step forward. “We haven’t much time, Moon Child-”

“Stop calling me that!” Varian backed away from them, his back hitting the wall. “You- you guys are crazy, a- and I’m not going anywhere with you.”

The leader looked over at his companions, and they seemed to come to a consensus, shoulders squaring with resolve.

“I… am sorry it has to be this way.”

At some secret signal Varian couldn’t see, the other two men rushed forward. Strong arms wrestled him into their grasp, a gloved hand clamping down over his mouth.

Varian fought back in vain, a scream wedged in his throat. Panic and shock overwhelmed him- _why was this happening, why was this happening-_

“Don’t worry, Moon Child.” The leader’s voice was eerily calm, and beneath his visor Varian caught the glint of sharp eyes. “It will all make sense very soon."

The hooded men whisked him off into the night.

~*~


	2. half

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi readers! I hope you're enjoying the story so far, I was pleasantly surprised to see how many people were reading. That being said, please, please, _please_ don't be shy! I would love to hear what you think so far. Feedback is really important to me, not only as reassurance that people like what I'm writing but also as motivation.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter ended up being literally twice as long as the first. Normally I hate inconsistency and would split it up into two, but it just wouldn't fit the flow of the story. So just... consider it a bonus, I guess? Idk. Read on and enjoy, and please don't hesitate to leave a comment! - Aqua

_chapter two - half_

~*~

Perilune was shaken awake.

Their cot creaked beneath them as they shifted, pushing themselves up on their elbows. It was late at night, if the dark windows were any indication, everyone else in the room still fast asleep. Blinking, they looked up at the stern face of Breccia, one of the Orderlies. Her ruddy brown hair was pulled into a tight bun as was customary, her dull green eyes serious behind her thin-wired glasses. Her mark, dual half moons beneath her right ear, shone silver as the ink caught and reflected the scarce light.

“Wake up, child,” she whispered, “and come with me.”

Without waiting for a response, the tall woman turned and strode out of the bedchamber, her robes whirling about. Perilune was left scrambling to pull their boots on and follow.

They jogged a little to catch up, Breccia setting a brisk pace through the compound. Their mind raced with possible explanations for being summoned at this hour; they couldn’t think of anything they’d done wrong, but maybe someone was unsatisfied with their work, and they were going to be punished.

Perilune’s heart quickened at the thought, their wrists already aching in anticipation, but they forced themselves to calm down. Jumping to conclusions wouldn’t help anything. They’d just have to wait and see what Breccia had in store for them.

Perilune was somewhat surprised to see so many people up at this hour, passing by many in the hallways. Several Templars deep in conversation, a few Patrons bustling back and forth, one of the Acolytes hurrying by with his arms full of scrolls. The very walls seemed to hum with activity, an excited sort of buzz that made Perilune want to ask questions even more. But they held their tongue, mindful of their place.

Breccia didn’t speak to Perilune as they walked, didn’t even look back at them. There was a sense of urgency about her, though, and as Perilune realized where they were headed, their heart skipped a beat.

The staircase to the underground cells. So it _was_ about their work, then. That cell they’d been ordered to clean the day before last… they must not have done a good enough job.

Perilune kept their gaze lowered as they followed Breccia down, mentally preparing themselves for reprimand. Disappointment curled in their stomach; they should know better by now than to make mistakes like this.

The temperature dropped as they descended, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows on the stone walls. There were voices coming from the end of the hallway; one Perilune recognized as Acolyte Rille, who often lead the morning sermons. Breccia didn’t slow, Perilune barely managing to avoid tripping on their own robes in their haste to keep up. They caught snippets of conversation as they approached.

“- might be prudent to postpone until the next full moon?” Acolyte Rille was saying, absentmindedly rubbing the crescent moon on the back of his hand. “I’m certain that after some time with us, he’ll become more… agreeable.”

“We can’t risk waiting that long.”

As they came to a stop before the two men, Perilune jolted when they realized exactly who was speaking.

High Priest Umbra.

He was an imposing man, cutting a strong figure despite being in his late fifties. A clean-shaven jaw, wrinkled brow, and an upturned nose gave him a distinguished look. His robes were of a more elaborate style, the turban on his head denoting his status. And glittering on his forehead was his mark; an ornate full moon, inked half in shadow and surrounded by several tiny stars.

Perilune immediately bowed their head in respect. They had only spoken directly with High Priest Umbra twice before, and that had been a long while ago; the day of their Cleansing ritual, and the day he assigned them to the Patrons. He usually communed through his Acolytes, so getting to see him face to face was considered a great honor.

It was also incredibly nerve-wracking. What could the _High Priest_ possibly want with them?

“High Priest,” Breccia dipped her head as well. “Will they suffice?”

High Priest Umbra turned to Perilune, giving them an appraising look. “Yes, they’ll do fine. Thank you.”

The dismissal was understood, and Breccia simply nodded before leaving the way she came, her footsteps echoing against the tiled floors. Acolyte Rille pardoned himself as well, giving Perilune an unreadable look as he passed them.

High Priest Umbra waited a few seconds before speaking.

“I have a task for you, child.” 

Perilune glanced up as he addressed them, meeting steely gray eyes. There was a calculated look to them as he paused for a moment.

“The Moon Child has been found,” he said.

Perilune’s mouth fell open. The Moon Child. The Chosen One. The celestial being foretold to wield an _unimaginable_ power. They couldn’t believe it! After hundreds of years of silence, of the Servants existing on nothing but faith and an ancient prophecy… the Moon Child was finally here. This… this changed _everything!_

As if they’d spoken out loud, High Priest Umbra smiled. “Yes, I know, it’s an exciting time.” He tilted his head at the cell block farthest down the hall. “He’s in there.”

Two Templars stood on either side of the cell door, dual swords glinting in their sheaths. 

“Unfortunately,” High Priest Umbra continued, “the circumstances in which we brought him here were not ideal. The truth was kept from him, all his life, and he’s having a hard time accepting it. He isn’t being very agreeable and is refusing care, which is problematic for a couple reasons. The journey here took over a day, and he hasn’t had anything to eat or drink. I feel it would be better for someone more… _approachable_ to tend to him, until the ritual commences at the full moon.”

It took Perilune a second to realize exactly what he was saying. “I- it would be an honor, High Priest.” 

And they could have stopped there, but something High Priest Umbra had said caught at the back of their mind, an incessant thought they couldn’t let go. “High Priest…” they spoke hesitantly. “If… the Moon Child does not wish to partake, then-”

“It will not matter after the ritual is complete,” High Priest Umbra said, his voice developing a hard edge.

Perilune quickly lowered their gaze, nodding. “Of course, High Priest.”

“Now then.” Placing a hand on their shoulder, High Priest Umbra guided them towards the cell. “Gentlemen, this Patron will be attending to the Moon Child. They are the only one allowed inside.”

The Templars bowed their heads and replied in unison. “Yes, High Priest.”

Perilune glanced over their shoulder at the sound of footsteps; Acolyte Rille was approaching, having returned holding something in his hands. A round, polished tray with a pitcher of water and a bronze cup.

“Ah, thank you, Acolyte.” High Priest Umbra nodded at him before turning back to Perilune. “Now, take this to the Moon Child. Try to get him to drink, if you can. He’s likely dehydrated.”

Perilune took the tray, eyes widening in surprise. They were going to see the Moon Child _right now?_ That… wasn’t much warning. Suddenly they wished they’d had time to make themselves more presentable, to take care of the wrinkles in their robes. Their braid was messy, parts of it having fallen out while they were sleeping-

High Priest Umbra patted their shoulder in an encouraging way. “I trust you’ll do just fine.” He nodded at the Templars, one of whom pulled a key off his belt and unlocked the door. “Go on in. My Acolytes and I must go continue preparations for tonight, but the guards will be right outside if you need anything. Just give a shout.”

With that, High Priest Umbra and Acolyte Rille took their leave.

Swallowing, Perilune tightened their grip on the tray. Hesitating for only a moment, they steeled themselves before pushing the door open and stepping into the cell.

It took their eyes a second to adjust to the dim light.

Sitting on the floor of the cell was a boy; the Moon Child. Probably about a year younger, though it was hard to be certain. He was barefoot, and his shirt looked a couple sizes too big, hanging off his slender frame. Shackles around his wrists tethered him to the wall, the chains only long enough for him to take one or two steps away. It looked like he’d been pulling on them, his skin red and irritated.

Startled blue eyes met Perilune’s, and they found themselves staring as they took in the rest of his features.

Thin, arched brows and a somewhat angular chin. The splash of freckles across his pointed nose, like a star map written on his pale skin. Silky raven hair that was a tousled mess, a lone streak of blue cutting through his bangs. And front teeth that stuck out ever so slightly, in a way that was oddly endearing.

Perilune was filled with absolute wonder. He was nothing they’d expected, and more than they could have dreamed.

The moment between them seemed to stretch on for a small eternity, before the Moon Child shook himself out of it. A wary look shadowed his eyes, and he backed against the wall, the chains rattling as they dragged on the floor.

“Who are you? Wha- what do you want?” His voice was hoarse, full of doubt and apprehension.

“I…” Perilune blinked themselves out of their stupor, clearing their throat. “I brought you some water, Moon Child.”

The Moon Child frowned at the tray in their hands. “I’m not thirsty,” he said, unconvincingly. Everything about him _screamed_ mistrust.

Perilune tilted their head thoughtfully. “My apologies. I was told that you hadn’t had anything at all yesterday.” It was… understandable that he wouldn’t be inclined to trust them right away. If he truly knew nothing about his powers, then he must be horribly confused and frightened. Of course he’d be suspicious of anything they gave him.

Perilune looked down into the cup of water, their hesitant reflection shining back at them. They had an idea, to show him that it was alright and wasn’t drugged or poisoned or anything, but it might be considered disrespectful…

“Well, I’m fine,” the Moon Child insisted stiffly, his ragged voice giving him away.

Perilune made up their mind. Careful not to spill, they folded their legs beneath them and sat down on the tiled floor. Settling the tray on their lap, they smiled gently at him before lifting the cup to their lips, taking a measured sip.

They could feel the Moon Child watching them intently. Lowering the cup, they met his gaze earnestly. “I promise it’s alright,” they told him softly, holding the cup out to him. “I won’t do anything to harm you.”

Biting his lip, the Moon Child slowly reached a hand out. Their fingers brushed as he took the cup from them. After one more uncertain glance, he finally relented and started drinking.

Relief filled Perilune as he finished the cup, drinking another that they poured for him. At least they knew he wouldn’t be passing out from dehydration any time soon.

When the Moon Child was done, he handed the cup back to them, licking his lips. He almost looked shy. “… thank you,” he said quietly.

Perilune smiled. “Of course, Moon Child.”

Something unreadable flashed across the Moon Child’s features. “Why does everyone call me that? It- it’s not like I don’t have a _name.”_ He looked Perilune up and down. “You’re not even that much older than me.”

“I apologize, it’s simply customary, Moon Ch-”

“Varian. Please, it’s-” His voice cracked. “My name is Varian.”

Perilune stared back into honest blue eyes, a bit desperate, a bit pleading, and wholly overwhelming. His words were even more so; the thought of referring to the Moon Child by a human name- unthinkable! And yet… they found themselves hesitating.

He… was just a person. The emotions written on his face spoke of it so clearly, the quiet strength that came from showing vulnerability. The slope of tired shoulders, the tangled strands of hair, the hollows beneath his eyes.

That wasn’t to say Perilune found him lacking; he was perfect in his imperfections, extraordinary in his simplicity- it was clear he’d lived and loved and suffered as they all did, a universal experience that appeared to hold true even for those beyond them, born of the cosmos. And despite the power inside him, he wasn’t a mighty being, a flawless deity above all. (Personally, Perilune thought that was better. They hadn’t been drawn to the Servitude by the idea of idols but by the _people)._

Finally, Perilune dipped their head, looking up at him through their lashes. “As you wish… Varian.”

Varian gave them a relieved smile, his gratitude plainly evident. It made Perilune’s heart ache, the thought of something so simple meaning so much.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Perilune couldn’t help the look of surprise that came over them. The Moon Chi- _Varian,_ wanted to know _their_ name? The amazement never ceased. 

“I’m Perilune,” they said.

Varian’s eyes were soft. “Perilune,” he breathed. For some reason, hearing their name on his tongue sent a thrill through Perilune they couldn’t explain.

After a moment, Varian’s expression sobered. “What… what do they want with me, Perilune?”

Hesitating, Perilune looked away. “It’s not for me to say-”

_“Please.”_

Perilune bit their lip. It really wasn’t their place, but… no one else had told him what was going on. They owed him that much, didn’t they? “They… the Acolytes wish to fulfill the prophecy,” they said. “Tonight, during the full moon, they’ll try to fully activate your powers through ritual.”

Varian’s eyes widened in alarm. “Why?”

“So you can achieve your destiny,” Perilune said. “To wipe out all sinners with your powers and begin the world anew.”

_“What?”_ A look of horror came over Varian. “No, I- I don’t want that!”

Perilune’s jaw dropped. “But… it has been foretold for centuries! You’re the only one who can save this world, bring about a new order-”

“Do you _really_ believe that?” Varian asked, raking a hand through his hair. “That- that the world deserves whatever horrible vengeance they think I can unleash?”

“I…” Perilune blinked. No one had ever asked them what _they_ believed. “I’m not- it’s the only way. The debt of sin must be paid. Those who will not repent and follow you must perish. It’s- they deserve it, don’t they?” Uncertainty leaked into their voice, despite themselves. “It’s the only way.”

Varian reached out tentatively, putting a hand on their arm. “I used to think like that. I- I blamed others for my mistakes, and I wanted nothing more than to make them pay. But now…” His breath caught. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Please. I _can’t,_ n- not again.”

The anguish in his eyes was too much. Perilune pulled away, despite how it hurt to do so. “I’m sorry, Varian, there’s- there’s nothing I can do.” They rose to their feet, their throat tightening as they glanced away. “I’ll- they’ll be wondering where I am. I have to go, I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“Perilune…”

“I’m sorry.”

Perilune left without another word, the cell door locking behind them.

~*~

Varian picked at the cuffs around his wrists absentmindedly.

He wasn’t sure what to think of it all. It was almost impossible to wrap his head around. Some shady organization, some _cult,_ whose entire purpose was to activate his powers- powers he wasn’t even convinced he _had_ \- so he could hurt people. The thought filled him with terror, even if he didn’t fully believe it all.

After all, there wasn’t any proof. If he had powers anything like Rapunzel’s sun powers, surely there would have been some kind of sign? He’d lived his _entire life_ without any indication of it. But Varian had a sinking feeling that wouldn’t matter to the cultists; they seemed wholly convinced, and it was clear that whatever he thought or felt didn’t matter.

Yesterday had been awful. Once his kidnappers had gotten him out of the castle, he’d been tied up, blindfolded, and thrown onto a horse. From then on it had been pretty much nonstop riding. He’d thought that they’d have to break at some point, to let the horses rest, but evidently, they were in a hurry and had planned ahead. Every few hours, they’d stopped at these checkpoints, where different men were waiting with fresh horses chomping at the bit. Varian was handed off like a piece of luggage, and they were off again.

They had given him short rests a couple times throughout the day, letting him stretch his legs even though his hands were kept bound and he’d stayed blindfolded. It had hardly made a difference; Varian’s muscles were still sore from being held in the same position for hours. None of them had tried to talk to him, except to offer him food and water (which he’d rejected, because he’d had no way of telling if it was safe or not), and they’d ignored all his attempts at getting answers.

Varian had tried his best to keep track of everything as they went; at least, the part of him that hadn’t been overwhelmed with panic had tried. But blindfolded, it had been near impossible to tell what direction they were headed, how many people there were, or how much time had passed… there had been nothing but darkness and the pounding of hooves on the ground.

As a result, Varian had no clue where they were in the kingdom. His cell didn’t have a window, so he hadn’t even known the time.

Until Perilune had told him, that was.

By his estimates, it was now almost nighttime again, and he still didn’t know what to think about the other teen. He hadn’t expected such consideration and kindness from someone who was a part of all this. There’d been real compassion in those mesmerizing blue eyes, and for the first time in a long time, Varian had felt like someone was really _seeing_ him, not just looking at him.

Perilune had visited him several times after the first, bringing him meals as the day progressed and water every few hours. Varian still couldn’t bring himself to eat, his stomach too unsettled to reliably keep anything down.

The two of them had ended up just… talking. Perilune had been tight-lipped about anything regarding the ritual that was supposed to take place later, but had been happy to discuss pretty much anything else. They’d seemed taken aback, however, whenever Varian had asked them something about themselves. Like they weren’t used to people being interested in them.

Eventually they’d warmed up to the notion, telling him about themselves, what they liked to do, and explaining how they were neither a boy or a girl. Varian found them surprisingly easy to talk to, and the more time he spent around them, the more at ease he felt. It helped him feel _normal_ again, like he wasn’t a prisoner of a delusional cult- or the former prisoner of the king. Just a person having a conversation with someone, getting to know them. He’d started dreading the end of Perilune’s visits, dreading being left alone in the cell again.

Whether that had more to do with how attached he’d gotten to Perilune, or how much he hated being locked up, Varian didn’t know.

The telltale sound of a deadbolt turning interrupted the quiet, and Varian brightened, sitting up to look at the cell door expectantly. He hadn’t thought Perilune would be back so soon, but he would definitely be relieved to see them.

The door swung open with a creak, and Varian stood. “Perilune, I-”

Standing in the doorway were two of those armored men, the Templars. Perilune was nowhere to be seen.

Varian’s spine stiffened at the sight of them, unpleasant memories flashing through his mind. He backed away from the door, his heart starting to race.

“Moon Child.” One of the Templars stepped forward. “It is time.”

“No, _no,_ I-” Varian’s back hit the wall. “I don’t want this, _please.”_

His protests fell on deaf ears. The Templars cornered him, unlocking the shackles and seizing him by the arms. Their grips were almost hard enough to bruise as they pulled him out of the cell, his eyes struggling to adjust to the increased light.

They led him down the corridor, up a winding staircase. The floor was cold on his bare feet (his shoes had been taken early on, probably to discourage him from trying to escape). The Templars said nothing as they went, leaving the anxiety in Varian’s chest to build and build.

He considered screaming for help, but the harsh reality was that there was no point. There was no one to save him. 

The Templars took a sudden turn down a long hallway, a pair of doors at the end of it. They reminded Varian of the doors back at the castle that led into the throne room; impossibly high and ornately detailed.

They came to a stop before them. One of the Templars reached out and gave two sharp knocks with his fist. After a moment, the doors slowly swung open with a low groan, and Varian was pulled inside.

Despite everything, he couldn’t help but find the architecture of the room stunning. The walls were made of polished white stone, stretching up to a high, domed ceiling. At its apex was a glass skylight, flooding the chamber with light from the full moon that sat above them. Directly beneath the ray of moonlight, in the center of the room, was a solitary wooden post. Five or so people were standing around it in a loose circle; the Acolytes, if Varian had to guess.

The room was filled with people, too many to count, standing in neat rows along the walls. All in similar dark blue robes, with only slight variations that probably had something to do with their status. There wasn’t any single type of person there; men and women of all ages were present. Even some around Varian’s age, but not much younger.

He picked out Perilune in the crowd almost immediately. Not only did their darker complexion make them stand out, as not many others there shared it, but their expression was one of distress, not excitement, like everyone else.

Their eyes locked. Varian opened his mouth to call out to Perilune-

An abrupt yank on his arm kept him moving, pulling him away. Varian was dragged to the center of the chamber, through the loose circle of Acolytes, and pushed down onto his knees. His hands were roughly wrenched behind him, coarse rope scratching his already sensitive skin as he was tied to the wooden post.

Finished with their job, the Templars left the circle to take their places among the others. An impressive looking man stepped forward, the design of his robes and the turban he wore unique to him alone. Something about him seemed to suggest he had power over everyone in the room, and he knew it.

Standing in front of Varian, he bowed low with a wave of his arm. “I am High Priest Umbra, divine guide to the Servants of the Lunar Temple,” he said. There was an almost greedy glint to his eyes. “It is an honor to finally have you with us, Moon Child.”

“Let me go! _Please.”_ Varian strained against the ropes. “I- I don’t want any part of this.”

The High Priest ignored him, like he hadn’t even spoken, and lifted his voice to address the congregation of people. “Brothers and sisters, fellow servants, rejoice! For tonight, the world shall be reborn!”

The tall doors to the chamber opened again, revealing an old woman. Hands clasped together, she started making her way down the aisles of people, moving with a quiet dignity.

Her robes were white, unlike the other’s dark blue. Her gray hair was twisted into an elaborate style, and she wore a silver circlet that, on top of everything else, gave her a regal appearance. Four small moons were tattooed across the front of her neck, the shining ink almost mimicking the look of pearls. Everyone bowed their heads as she passed them, and their expressions seemed to suggest she was someone of high importance.

Varian eyed her warily as she neared him, waiting to see what she would do.

The old woman stopped in front of him, lowered herself onto her knees, and bowed low, her nose nearly brushing the ground. When she came up again, her eyes were shining with emotion.

“I was beginning to think this day would never come.” Her voice was soft with wonder. “Truly, it is an honor.”

Before Varian could react, the High Priest stepped up behind the old woman and raised his arms. 

“Hear us, Spirit of the Moon, and receive this willing soul as a testament to your might.” His voice echoed around the chamber like thunder. “Let your power be awakened in this child, to fulfill your noble purpose!”

The High Priest reached into the sleeve of his robe, drew out a shining silver dagger, and slit the old woman’s throat.

It took Varian’s brain a second to comprehend what’d just happened. Everything seemed to move in slow motion; the glint of the blade pressed against paper-thin skin, the line carved right along those four little moons, the bright spray of red staining pure white robes. The old woman’s lifeless body toppled over, blood quickly pooling a gory halo around her head.

Varian stared. He couldn’t make himself look away, even as his vision started to blur with tears. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak or think, too sick with horror to even _breathe._ An absent part of him registered warm flecks of blood on his face, splattered on his clothes-

The High Priest stepped over the old woman’s body, stooping to dip his fingers in the rippling blood. “With this sacrifice begins a new age,” he announced, his eyes flashing with a manic sort of light. “The age of repentance. The age of darkness. The age of the moon.” He stretched a hand out towards Varian’s face.

The proximity managed to break Varian out of his trance. He flinched away, but there was nowhere to go. Using the blood on his hands, the High Priest drew something on Varian’s forehead, and the cloying smell of copper almost overwhelmed him.

The High Priest stood back, satisfied, and on cue, the Acolytes that encircled him started chanting. The words were in a language Varian had never heard before, ancient and foreign to his ears, but impossibly, _unsettlingly,_ familiar. Their voices filled the air, resonating through the ground as if the very earth was speaking.

Varian’s skin crawled at the sound of it. His panic was back tenfold, and he was struggling hard to keep himself together, tears streaming down his face. The ropes dug into his wrists, but the pain hardly fazed him. He took a shaky breath, almost choking on the heavy scent of fresh blood.

_‘Calm down, nothing’s happening,’_ he told himself desperately. _‘You’re fine, **you’re fine,** this ritual isn’t actually going to **do** anything, they’re completely deranged. You’re not what they think you are, you don’t have powers, and you’re going to be just fi-’_

Something inside him stirred.

~*~


	3. full

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Greetings, readers! This week we broke five hundred views, which is amazing! However, I'm asking you to **please consider leaving a comment,** I would _love_ to hear your thoughts on the series so far and haven't really gotten much feedback yet. Please don't be shy!
> 
> This chapter's been in my head for a while now, and I worked real hard to bring that vision to life. I hope you like it. Enjoy! - Aqua

_chapter three – full_

~*~

Rapunzel was surrounded by darkness.

It was absolute, so devoid of light she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. It was everywhere she turned, no matter where she looked, no matter how far she ran. And it was crushing, like a weight pressing down on her from all directions.

Panic seized her. “Hello?” she called out in vain, hoping for some kind of sign she wasn’t alone. “Is there anyone there?”

She didn’t know where she was, or why she was there. There was _nothing,_ just the dark and the cold and a growing sense of dread. What was she even supposed to-

A voice cried out.

_“Help! Someone, anyone, help me, please!”_

It was a boy’s voice, echoing through the darkness. He sounded terrified and in pain, an edge of desperation to it that ran a chill down Rapunzel’s spine. But beneath all the raw emotion and the almost otherworldly quality to the voice, it sounded… familiar.

_“Please, help me!”_

Rapunzel’s heart jolted as she realized whose voice it was.

_Varian._

“Varian!” She spun around, trying to determine the direction it was coming from. “Varian, where are you?”

A light appeared in the distance, a small pinprick of silver. Rapunzel ran to it instantly, a deep pull in her chest drawing her to it. The light grew bigger as she got closer, slowly expanding over the horizon. Electricity filled the air, a low humming that seemed to reverberate through her skull. It almost felt like a warning, like the way a wave pulls away from the shore before crashing back down.

Rapunzel pressed on. “Varian? Are you here? I-”

Varian screamed.

Immediately, the dull buzzing intensified into an ear-splitting roar. The light erupted, a blinding explosion so cold it _burned._ It consumed everything, the world vanishing in a haze of white.

_**“No!”** _

Rapunzel woke up, bolting upright in bed.

Her hair fell in a heap around her, its golden glow fading away. She realized with a start that it’d been levitating again, its power activating while she slept. Her heart beat frantically as she struggled to control her breathing, quick and shallow in the silence of her bedroom.

Pascal chirped in concern, climbing up on her knee.

“I’m- I’m okay, Pascal,” Rapunzel said shakily, lightly stroking the top of his head. “I’m okay.”

In reality, she felt far from it. She hadn’t had a dream with Varian in it for a long time, not since before her birthday. Having him in the castle, a prisoner, had seemed to make the cryptic dreams stop. Using the black rocks to defeat his automatons, _connecting_ with them, had made them stop growing. All over the kingdom, the rocks had sunken back into the earth without a trace (all but one; the hybridized amber tomb of Varian’s father).

She’d thought it was over. But now that Varian had escaped, two days ago, it seemed far from it. That dream… it was even more vivid than the ones she’d had before. More urgent, more _real._ A sinking feeling settled in her stomach, a quiet sort of dread that crept through her entire body.

Rapunzel was certain of two things.

One; there was more to this than she could have possibly imagined. Her hair, the black rocks… whatever mystery she was wrapped up in wasn’t over. It was only just beginning.

And two; Varian was in trouble.

~*~

Varian’s breathing hitched.

There was an awakening inside him. Something ancient rising from a dark, isolated trench in the oceans of his soul. A forgotten, lonely place he didn’t know existed- now torn into an open wound. It bled ice, seeping into his veins and freezing his blood.

Varian gasped from the cold of it, air stealing from his lungs. His muscles seized, and he shook from the tension his body was holding; a taut string ready to snap. On the edges of his blurry vision, he caught the ends of his bangs just as they started to glow an impossible arctic blue.

Some wild, dark thing was emerging, a hungry ache deep in his core. The feeling spread throughout him, black ink coating his heart, his bones- and then _pain._ Sharp, sudden, blinding pain sank into him like hooked claws, ripping a scream from his throat. It was leverage, the darkness dragging him down as it crawled its way up. It was a sensation, flooding his nerves and mind and drowning everything else out, drowning _him-_

It was less like a weight strapped to his ankles, and more like lead had been woven into every fabric of his being. Varian choked as it pulled him deeper. The light of the surface faded away, until he was floating in a void. It wasn’t empty; he was surrounded by this dark presence, this _consciousness,_ pressing down on him. It was old, and angry, and he couldn’t control it- but as its awareness expanded ever outward, Varian was struck with the sudden realization that it was his own.

It wasn’t just something _inside_ him, it _was_ him. 

A shadow. A dark side. It- him- they- wanted to hurt. To rage and destroy and consume. To release the electricity building in his fingertips, the frantic energy in his chest. It would be devastating, he knew. He could _feel_ it, the intoxicating promise of ruin within his grasp. He could share this pain that was ravaging his body. Everything he’d suffered, he could take out on the world, the world that’d turned its back on him. All he had to do was let go, and fall.

Dangling over the abyss, Varian’s grip slackened-

An image appeared in his mind’s eye. His dad’s loving face, smiling down at him. Memories of being lifted onto his shoulders when he was younger, that deep laugh that seemed to shake the ground. The soft fur of a raccoon pressed to his cheek. And dark blue eyes that shone with warmth and kindness.

He had reasons to give in. It would be so easy to succumb to it, to let that darkness overtake him. But he also had reasons not to. He’d let his grief drive him for so long, caused so much harm… and for what? None of it would fix what he’d done. None of it would bring his dad back. His mistakes were his alone; he was the only one who should have to pay for them.

Resolve ignited in his heart. He couldn’t hurt anyone, not again.

With a wordless cry of defiance, Varian fought back. The pain intensified, tearing at him in a desperate attempt to seize control again. He forced through it and wrestled the darkness back down, a battle of wills with himself. Struggling to climb out of the deep, reaching up to the light-

Varian’s head broke the surface.

He abruptly came back to himself, shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath. Everything hurt. His nerves were overwhelmed. He collapsed against the wooden post, painful aftershocks coursing through his body. Tears ran hot down his face, and he was trembling from the shock.

It was over. The chamber was deathly silent, the only sound coming from Varian’s ragged sobs.

The High Priest was the first to react. He took a careful step towards Varian, hands held out in a placating gesture. “Moon Child…”

_“Stop,_ p- please,” Varian begged. He couldn’t take that again. He _couldn’t._ “Why… why are you doing this to me? I- I don’t understand.”

A calculating look flashed briefly across the High Priest’s face; there and gone in an instant. His expression twisted into one of sympathy. “It’s alright, Moon Child,” he said soothingly. “It’s not your fault your father lied to you.”

The mention of his dad was a slap to the face. It took Varian a moment to find his voice. “Wh- what do _you_ know about my dad?” he asked hoarsely.

The High Priest drew himself up, folding his hands together. “Your father was an enemy of truth. A part of a group, an Order, formed to keep the prophecy from coming to pass. Or, he _was_ … until you.”

“What?”

“Are you aware that when your mother carried you, she grew deathly ill?” He spoke casually, like they were talking about the weather. “Much like the queen of Corona. Only there was no sundrop flower this time. Just the moondrop flower. The sun and the moon are not equivalent. Your father knew this, knew the risks. But he was desperate, and so he took the power of the moon and tried to use it to save you and your mother. In doing this, he broke the most sacred law he’d sworn to uphold, and was cast out from the Order.”

Varian’s stomach dropped. “No…” he murmured. He didn’t want to believe it, but the High Priest’s expression was brutally honest. “He… he knew? All this time, he _knew?”_

The High Priest nodded emphatically. “Yes, and he kept it from you out of fear. Fear of you finding out what you truly are, what you’re capable of… and what your life had cost.”

Varian got a sick feeling. “What do you mean?”

The High Priest tilted his head. “True, the moon is powerful, but it is not its nature to _heal._ So, it could only save one of you, requiring the life of the other as payment.” He almost seemed to savor his next words, his lips curling into a cold smile. “The moon chose to save you, and because you lived, your mother died.”

Varian stopped breathing.

The simple fact that he was _alive_ had been what killed his mother, and Dad _knew._ For Varian’s entire life, his dad had known what he was, about the darkness inside him, and had never told him. Maybe he’d planned to, eventually, but now he never could because Varian had killed him, too.

_Killer._

The word beat a steady rhythm in his head, pulsing with the roar of blood in his ears.

_Killer. Killer. Killer._

His mind was screaming. Maybe he was, too, because his throat _burned._ Thoughts and feelings chased each other in dizzying circles, a snake eating its own tail. Disbelief and guilt and horror and this terrible sense of certainty and it was _too much-_

That gaping darkness within him tore itself open, raw and howling. Agony overwhelmed him. Before he could blink, he was plunged back into that icy, black water, the surface hopelessly beyond his reach.

Everything faded to white, and the last thing he felt was the cold.

~*~

Perilune watched in horror as Varian’s eyes started to glow.

They were flooded with light; bright voids so intense it hurt to look directly at them. His hair shone a brilliant blue-silver and floated in the air, weightless, as if gravity had no effect. His freckles were lit up, luminous as the stars they reminded Perilune of, and so was the blood staining his forehead; the ancient rune of summoning. The Acolytes resumed their chanting, their words serving to further call to the power inside him.

Varian’s screams were chilling, his voice painful and ragged and _unearthly._ He thrashed against his restraints, his expression twisted into agony. Perilune’s heart ached for him, their nails biting into their palms as their hands curled into fists.

It had been bad enough watching it happen the first time. But this time was different, Perilune could feel it. It was too soon- he couldn’t have possibly recovered enough to resist it again. Varian was fighting a losing battle, and it was tearing him apart.

Perilune’s gaze fell on High Priest Umbra. He was the only one with the power to stop this- they had to reason with him, to make him understand that this wasn’t the right way (they believed in the prophecy, as all loyal Servants did, but they’d never thought it’d turn out like _this)._

They had only taken a single step forward when a hand grabbed them by the arm, jerking them back.

“What are you _doing,_ child?” Breccia’s voice was a low hiss in their ear. “None may interfere with the ritual.”

“But this is wrong!” Perilune struggled to pull their arm free. “He’s clearly in pain, _please,_ we must stop this-”

There was a loud smack. Pain exploded across the left side of their face, right along the three moons tattooed under their eye. 

“You forget your place,” Breccia snapped, lowering her hand.

Perilune reeled from the blow, raising a stunned hand to their cheek. But one look at Breccia’s face told them it would pale in comparison to the punishment they’d be facing later. Their wrists ached from the memory of the last one.

Swallowing hard, Perilune bowed their head. How could they have forgotten themselves so easily? What chance did _they_ have to stop this? This was far above them; they were _nothing._

One of the Acolytes, Palus, broke off from the others and turned to High Priest Umbra. “He’s still fighting it,” he said, his concerned words barely audible over Varian’s anguished cries. “High Priest, we may have to consider-”

_“No,_ we’re not stopping,” High Priest Umbra said, a hard look in his eyes. “Keep going.”

Suddenly, there was a shift in the air. Varian let out a particularly piercing scream, glowing tears streaming down his face. Light started to gather around him, the moonbeams shining through the skylight seemed to almost bleed directly into his skin. Unease rippled throughout the crowd of Servants, the other Acolytes hesitating in their chant.

Acolyte Palus gave High Priest Umbra an alarmed look. “High Priest! Something must be wrong, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be!” His voice was edged with fear. “I don’t think it’s going to work!”

“It must,” High Priest Umbra insisted, his fists clenching at his sides. “It _will.”_

“A- as you wish, High Priest.” Acolyte Palus dipped his head. “I-”

The temperature dropped.

There was an explosion of light, and the skylight above shattered with an ear-splitting crash, raining down tiny crystals of glass. The stone floor split open in a circle around Varian, all the way to the foundations, sending the Acolytes stumbling back. White light whirled around him in a roaring cyclone, arced bolts flashing through the air like lightning.

The temple descended into chaos. People ran in every direction, panicked screams filling the air. The ground shook, chunks of stone crumbling from the ceiling and crashing to the ground.

High Priest Umbra’s voice rang out over the noise. _“Evacuate the temple!”_

Perilune stood frozen to the spot. Their eyes fell on Varian, alone in the eye of his storm. 

A million thoughts ran through their head. The only thing expected of them was to obey. To vacate the chamber and let the High Priest and the Templars deal with the fallout. Once things calmed down, they would surely try again… and again, and again, and again until Varian relented to his destiny and the prophecy was fulfilled. It was the Servant’s purpose, the entire reason for their existence. And they were closer now than they’d ever been, since the day of their creation, centuries ago. All Perilune had to do was turn away.

But looking at Varian… they couldn’t. It was never supposed to be this way. The Moon Child was supposed to have been _willing,_ to _want_ to bring retribution to the evil of the world. If the Servants were truly dedicated to the moon, they shouldn’t be trying to control it, to control Varian. And if it wasn’t the moon’s bidding to punish the sinners of the world, then what else had they been wrong about?

Perilune made their choice.

They broke into a run, pushing through the crowd of people towards Varian. The ground was unstable beneath their feet, the cracks growing bigger by the second. Forked tongues of light struck the floor, the walls, the ceiling- leaving scorched and crumbling stone in their wake. A shadow came over them, and Perilune swerved to avoid the falling debris-

A stray bolt of energy connected with their right shoulder, throwing them to the floor.

It took Perilune a second to recover. They rolled onto their hands and knees, blinking. There was a dull ache on their shoulder where the light had hit them, but it was only as painful as a bruise. Other than that, they seemed unharmed, just disoriented-

Something glittered at the edge of their vision. Their eyes narrowed to focus on the hair that had fallen in their face, loose from its braid. A silver light was trailing down one of the locks, leaving the color changed in its wake.

Perilune gathered up a now-silver strand of their hair, confused. But they couldn’t dwell on it long. Another tremor ran through the floor of the chamber, a deep crack running up the walls and spiderwebbing across the domed ceiling. Their heart gave a jolt; the entire temple was going to go down.

Scrambling to their feet, Perilune made their way towards the center of the chamber. The pressure increased, the electricity in the air an almost tangible force pushing against them. They pressed on, stepping over the gaps in the floor, and fell to their knees in front of him.

“Varian!” Perilune cupped his face in their hands. His skin was like ice. _“Varian._ Please, come back.”

At their voice, the light in Varian’s eyes flickered. His body seized, a strangled cry ripping from his throat. The glow faded from him, his hair falling back in his face, and the whirlwind of energy dissipated into the air. He sagged against the post, and when he opened his eyes again, they had returned to their normal pale blue, his gaze clouded with emotion.

Varian took a shaky breath. “P- Perilune?”

Perilune was filled with relief. “Yes, it’s me, it’s Perilune,” they said gently. “I’m here.”

_“Perilune.”_ Varian’s eyes were filled with tears. “It was _everywhere,”_ he whispered. “It was a- around me and inside m- me and it _was_ me and all it- all it wanted was to hurt. I can’t, not- not _again.”_

Heart twisting, Perilune brushed their thumb along his cheek. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you out of here,” they promised. They quickly undid the ropes binding Varian’s wrists. “Can you stand?”

“I- I don’t know.” Varian was trembling violently, his voice weak.

Perilune carefully draped Varian’s arm around their shoulders, their arm wrapping around his waist. They helped him to his feet, bracing themselves as he leaned against them for support. Together, they started towards the exit.

There was a Templar slumped on the floor, knocked unconscious by a piece of falling debris. Perilune reached down and unclipped his sword belt. They slung it over their shoulder, knowing it would come in handy. The dual swords jostled uncomfortably in their sheaths, bumping against Perilune as they went. They managed to get out of the chamber without being caught, almost disappearing into the throes of terrified people.

They had to get to the stables. It was their only chance.

Perilune took the way that would get them there the quickest, slipping unnoticed through a side door. It was quieter, but the sounds of the collapsing chamber still echoed through the halls- a low, eerie groaning that made Perilune’s hair stand on end.

Varian was faring poorly, the ritual having taken all his strength. He was clearly still feeling the painful aftereffects, almost relying entirely on Perilune to keep standing.

“Almost there,” Perilune said quietly. Another door took them outside, to the back of the compound. Perilune ushered Varian into the stables, the familiar smell of hay comforting them somewhat. They continued to the stall at the end of the row, the other horses giving them curious glances as they passed.

The horse inside pricked his ears at their approach, leaning over the stall door to nuzzle Perilune’s hair. He was a young gelding, dapple gray with streaks of white in his mane.

They knew this horse. Many hours a week were spent feeding and grooming the Templar’s horses, and this one, Saros, was a favorite of theirs. And he happened to take to Perilune as well (the extra carrots they secretly brought him from time to time might’ve had something to do with it).

Perilune brushed a hand over Saros’ muzzle. “Hey, boy,” they murmured. “We need your help.”

Saros nickered softly, dipping his head.

There was no time to tack up. Perilune helped Varian onto Saros’ back, climbing up behind him. They leaned forward and wrapped their fingers in Saros’ mane, nerves making their stomach turn. They didn’t have any experience riding. But Saros was well-trained, and most importantly, he was fast- the fastest of all the Templar’s horses. Hopefully that’d be enough.

The doors to the stables burst open, three Templars brandishing their swords.

“You there! _Stop!”_

“There they are!”

“Get them!”

Perilune squeezed their heels into the horse’s sides. “Saros, _go!”_

Saros charged down the length of the stables, hooves pounding against the ground. The Templars dove out of the way as he cleared the doorway in a flying leap, crashing back down into a gallop. There were shouts behind them, orders to pursue. Heart pounding, Perilune held tight, Varian barely conscious in their arms.

They raced off into the night, the light of the full moon cast over them.

~*~


	4. waxing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi readers! This came out later than I'd intended, but real life got in the way. Blegh. In any case, I'm happy with how this turned out, all the little last second strokes of inspiration that took more time (and added to the length, this one's almost 4k!), but ultimately added a great deal to the end product. Please consider leaving a comment if you're liking the story so far, and read on and enjoy! - Aqua

_chapter four - waxing_

~*~

Perilune tightened their hold on Saros’ mane, the horse jolting as he hopped over a fallen log.

The light of dawn filtered through the thick canopy of trees, the pale gray sky above barely visible through the leaves. The air around them was filled with the sounds of the forest waking up, squirrels leaping from branch to branch and birds chirping as they fluttered about.

The full moon had sunk below the horizon, the sun yet to rise; an equilibrium of the heavens.

Perilune was certain they’d gotten away safely, but they couldn’t help the impulsive look over their shoulder at every unexpected noise. They’d eased Saros into a brisk walk, giving the horse a chance to recover from their escape while still making ground. They’d been going strong for several hours now, but they’d have to stop eventually, and Perilune wanted them to be as far as possible from the Temple before they did.

Varian had fallen unconscious shortly after they escaped, lying limp in their arms. His head was tucked against Perilune’s shoulder, his breath warming their neck. His expression was peaceful as he slept, lashes casting long shadows on his cheeks. There were no traces of the incredible turmoil he’d been dealing with only hours prior, just the stain of dried blood on his forehead.

So much had happened yesterday, Perilune didn’t know what to make of all of it. Each stride of Saros’ hooves took them farther and farther from the one place they’d ever truly felt at home. A small part of them yearned for it. For things to be like they were before, instead of being on the run from their own brethren with nothing but a vague plan, a somewhat familiar horse, and a pair of swords.

But Perilune didn’t regret their choice. Because of them, Varian was safe and free, instead of being made a prisoner to abilities he’d only just come to know, for purposes he’d rejected. They were going to get him to the castle, to the _king,_ and expose the Servants for what they truly were. To put an end to this mad pursuit once and for all.

And then… the Servants would be gone. The prophecy would never be fulfilled, and the world would go on as it always had. Varian would go back to whatever life he’d had before, and Perilune… Perilune would…

The thought drew them up short. What would be there for them after this? They had no family, no life whatsoever outside the Temple…

Perilune shook the thought from their mind. All that mattered right now was getting to the castle, they could worry about the future after the fact-

_“Perilune!”_

Varian suddenly jolted awake. He nearly fell off the horse, his limbs flailing in panic.

“Whoa!” Perilune pulled Saros to a halt and grabbed Varian’s arms, steadying him. “Easy, _easy,_ it’s alright, Varian.”

Varian stopped thrashing, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The hazy look to his eyes told Perilune he was still very much out of it.

“Wh- where are-” he looked around wildly, as if expecting something to jump out at them, “I- the men, they were just-”

“It’s alright, you’re safe,” Perilune said, lightly stroking their thumb along his wrist. His pulse jumped beneath their skin. “You’re safe.”

Varian’s breathing hitched. “It was- it was so dark. A- and _cold.”_ His voice was hoarse, a haunted look shadowing his gaze. “I- I didn’t want to…”

Perilune shushed him gently. “Rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

“N- no,” Varian shook his head frantically, “what if they- what if something happens?”

“Don’t worry,” Perilune said. “I’m keeping us off the roads, so it’ll be harder for them to find us. It’ll take a couple days to get to the capital this way.” They moved one of their hands to brush the hair out of his face. “Please, rest. I will alert you if anything happens.”

Varian held their gaze for a moment, hesitating, before exhaling shakily. “O- okay. I can- I can try. Promise you… you’ll still be here when I w- wake up?”

Perilune’s heart tightened painfully. “Yes, of course.”

“Okay.” Varian settled back against them, closing his eyes with a sigh. One of his hands gripped the fabric of their robe, tucking it to his chin like a child might hold a blanket. He was asleep again within moments, his soft breathing barely audible.

Perilune swallowed the lump in their throat and urged Saros forward.

~*~

Varian woke from a deep, dreamless sleep.

He sat still for a moment, registering the motion of a moving horse beneath him. Warmth pressed into his side, and there was soft fabric clenched in his fist. Memories of last night slowly trickled back to him; Perilune dragging him from the collapsing temple, escaping on horseback…

“Varian?” Perilune’s tentative voice was startlingly close, soft in his ear.

Varian tilted his head up, meeting dark blue eyes only inches away from him. His face flushed, and he abruptly pushed himself upright, his legs draped across one side of the horse’s back so he was half-facing Perilune.

"Good morning," Perilune said mildly. "Or, afternoon, I should say."

Varian rubbed his eyes. “Perilune?” His voice was hoarse. “Where are- woah, what happened to your _hair?”_

There was a silver streak in Perilune’s hair that hadn’t been there before.

“Oh, that.” Perilune lifted a hand to their braid. “I… got a bit close with the magic back at the temple. I’m alright,” they assured him quickly, at his alarmed look. “Really, I’m fine, it’s just my hair.”

Varian swallowed. “I did that?” Guilt formed a pit in his stomach. He could only somewhat recall what had happened when his powers were activated; a cold chill seeping into his bones and flashes of white light and blood roaring in his ears and- his powers. He had _powers._ The reminder was abrupt, making him stiffen.

It was all so hard to believe. Magic and prophecies and the moon… none of it seemed possible. And yet he’d _lived_ it, felt the power coursing through his veins and seen the destruction of the temple, destruction _he’d_ caused, and Perilune’s hair was further evidence. Absently, he wondered if that had anything to do with his own discolored streak of hair; the odd bluish-grey he’d never been able to find a reason for…

“I promise I’m alright,” Perilune said, their voice bringing him back to the present. “How are you feeling?”

Varian blinked at the question. He wasn’t even entirely sure of that himself. “Um. I’m… kind of sore. And my throat hurts.” Good, focus on physical state. Be practical. That was something he could easily evaluate, instead of trying to process everything that’d happened to him. So many revelations and thoughts and feelings overwhelmed his brain that it all almost seemed to cancel out, leaving him numb.

“Are you hungry?”

An image flashed through Varian’s mind unbidden; a gleaming dagger slicing through the paper-thin skin of an old woman’s neck. His stomach churned at the memory. “No.”

Perilune hummed. “That’s fortunate. I have no food.”

Varian cracked a dry smile at that. “Where are we?”

“About a day out from the capital, once night falls,” Perilune replied.

Varian gave their surroundings a cursory look, brows furrowing. It just looked like every other forest he’d ever seen. He turned back to Perilune. “How can you tell?”

Perilune gave him a funny look. “I followed the stars. Do you not navigate by them?”

Wasn’t _that_ a curious thought… where Varian came from, people used maps, or followed roads and landmarks, memorizing routes by repetition and familiarity. “No, I- I guess I never paid them too much attention.”

“That’s a shame,” Perilune said softly. “They’re very beautiful.”

There was something in Perilune’s gaze that made it hard for Varian to look at, so he looked up instead, at the snippets of blue sky visible through the trees. “But you can’t see them now, how can you be sure you’re still going in the right direction?”

Perilune shrugged. “Easy; I stay on the path they gave me.”

“But still,” Varian pressed. “If you were going the wrong way, you wouldn’t know until nighttime and by then you- you’d be completely lost. How can you keep going like that?”

“That’s what faith is for.”

Varian fell silent. 

Faith. He’d found that hard to come by lately. All his faith had been shattered; in his kingdom and its ruler, in his friends… in himself. And after what the High Priest had said during the ritual… he didn’t even know what to think of his own _father._ He was as faithless as they came.

The thought of the ritual made Varian's heart twinge painfully. “That woman, at the- at the temple…” His voice sounded small, even to his own ears. “They just… killed her.”

Perilune gave him a consoling look. “It was her choice, Varian.”

Varian shook his head. “What difference does it make? She- she’s dead because of me.” 

“Please, don’t blame yourself,” Perilune said. “There are many in the Servitude who would gladly sacrifice themselves for the prophecy.”

It was meant to be reassuring, Varian knew that, but the thought horrified him. “Why- why would someone do that?”

Perilune was quiet for a moment, their brows knitting together. “I suppose that… when someone truly believes in something, they’ll do anything for it, even give their life.”

“They shouldn’t,” Varian said. “I’m not worth it. None of this was worth that. I should’ve-”

“Varian.” Perilune put a hand on his shoulder. _“None of this_ was your fault.”

Varian’s throat closed up. He glanced away, his eyes stinging. “It’s, uh. Kinda hard not to feel that way. It’s- it’s like everything in m- my life just finds a way to go- to go _wrong,_ and- it’s just _me,_ my fault, always _my fault_ and I j- just end up ruining everything I touch-”

 _“Varian.”_ Perilune gently took his face in their hands, like they did back at the temple, in the chaos and destruction, when they pulled him up out of the dark- “It wasn’t your fault.”

Varian stared at them, his eyes wide. His breathing hitched.

Tenderly, _so tenderly,_ Perilune pulled him into an embrace, and Varian broke.

He buried his face in the crook of their neck, trembling with quiet sobs. It was like if he cried any harder, he’d shatter completely, Perilune’s arms around him the only thing keeping him together.

He lost track of how long they stayed liked that. Long enough for his tears to run dry, for his breathing to slow and even out. The gentle sway of the horse’s strides soothed him, as much as Perilune’s hand running through his hair.

“Thank you,” Varian said, when he’d recovered enough to speak. He didn’t feel as fragile as before, but felt no desire to pull away from Perilune’s embrace. “I… I’m sorry, for…” He jerked his shoulder in a shrug. “For _this._ For dragging you into all of this.”

“I don’t mind,” Perilune murmured. “Just rest. Everything will be alright.”

The strange thing was, as Varian leaned his head against their shoulder, listening to their heartbeat… he was actually starting to believe it.

~*~

“What’d you say his name was?” Varian asked, glancing at the horse drinking beside him.

Perilune looked up from the water cupped in their hands and smiled. “Saros.”

It was midday, now. They’d stumbled upon a small lake, perfect timing to let Saros rest. Perilune figured they could both use the break as well, muscles stiff from hours of nonstop riding.

Varian seemed in better spirits now. He’d been shaky on his legs, not yet fully recovered. Perilune had helped him to the edge of the lake, where they’d both had their fill of the cool, clear water. It helped Perilune stave off the hunger that had been gradually gnawing at them, sharpening their mind for the hours of riding that lay ahead of them. They knew they’d have to make camp for the night eventually, and they could forage for food then. But so long as there was daylight, they would make the most of it.

Varian hesitantly stroked Saros’ neck. “Saros,” he repeated softly.

Saros lifted his muzzle from the water, ears pricked in interest. He chuffed lightly at Varian, his breath ruffling Varian’s bangs, who jerked back in surprise.

Perilune wiped the water from their chin, amused. “Do you have experience with horses?” they asked.

“Is it that obvious?” Varian’s lips quirked up in a crooked grin. “No, not really. My family never had one, so…” He shrugged, resting his hand on Saros’ neck as the horse resumed drinking. “I- I guess between us, you’d be the expert.”

“To be fair, I only have experience caring for them, not riding,” Perilune said, straightening up. They stretched their arms above their head, a pleasant burn in their aching shoulders.

“Oh?” Varian tilted his head, tucking his knees to his chest. “How’s that work?”

“It’s not my place,” Perilune said simply, resting a hand on Saros’ back. “I’m just-”

_“Hands up.”_

The unfamiliar voice came from behind them, low and gritty. Perilune turned to see a masked man, brandishing a sword. He’d emerged from the woods unnoticed, and Perilune cursed themselves for not paying better attention. A highway man; just their luck…

“Give me all your money, and your horse, and I won’t hurt you.”

Perilune gave Varian a reassuring look before turning back to the bandit. “We have no coin, and I’m afraid we need the horse.”

“Do I look like I care?” the bandit sneered. “Now step away from the horse, and throw your swords on the ground. Necklace and bracelets, too, girlie.”

Perilune’s jaw tightened. They took a slow step away from Saros, placing themselves between Varian and the bandit. Eyes narrowed, they took in his weak stance, his poor grip on the sword- he was no skilled fighter, relying mainly on intimidation. Likely preyed often on women and children.

“Alright,” they said calmly, wrapping a hand around their sword belt as if to slip it off. “Here you go.”

In one swift motion, Perilune drew both swords and drove them forward, trapping the hilt of the bandit’s sword between them. A sharp flick of their wrists wrenched it from his hands, falling uselessly to the ground. Turning into the movement, Perilune shot a leg out and swept it underneath the bandit’s feet, toppling him with an audible thud as his back hit the dirt.

The bandit laid stunned, eyes wide behind his mask.

Perilune leaned down, speaking lowly in his ear. “Now, I know that _you_ know my horse is faster than you. That’s why you were trying to steal him in the first place, after all. So in the interest of good faith, I’m giving you a five-minute head start before I hunt you down like a dog.” They straightened up, leveling their blades at his neck, and fixed him with their coldest stare. “If you value your life, you will take it.”

Perilune started counting.

The bandit was gone before they got to four.

Satisfaction curling in their chest, Perilune sheathed their swords. They stooped to pick up the bandit’s weapon and tossed it into the lake. “We should get moving now,” they said, turning back to Varian.

Varian was staring at them, seemingly frozen to the spot. His cheeks were slightly flushed. “How- how did you learn to do that?”

Perilune glanced away, unable to entirely hide their smile. “I have been trained to defend myself, as all initiates are,” they said, keeping their tone casual as they helped Varian up onto Saros. Despite themselves, their face warmed when Varian’s hand brushed their own. “It was nothing.”

Varian sat astride, so they could somewhat face each other while they rode. “That’s _basic_ training?” He looked amazed.

“I… may have listened in on a few lessons here and there,” Perilune admitted, climbing up after him. They urged Saros into a brisk trot. “I hoped to become a Templar, to further my studies in the way of the sword, but… it wasn’t meant to be.” At Varian’s confused look, they elaborated. “When initiates reach a certain age, or are with the Temple for a long enough time, our paths are chosen by High Priest Umbra. I was chosen to be a Patron.”

Varian tilted his head. “What’s that?”

Perilune hummed noncommittally. “We do most of the work around the temple, like cleaning, cooking, and mending, and we assist the Acolytes with organizing services, and care for the Templar’s horses… any task that’s beneath those with more important roles, no matter how trivial it may seem, is our duty. Patrons are-”

“Servants.” Varian’s eyes shone with emotion.

Perilune pursed their lips. “In the Lunar Temple, we are all mere servants to the will of the moon.” 

“But you’re a servant to those other people,” Varian said quietly.

Well. He wasn’t wrong. “I… suppose I was.” Perilune met Varian’s eyes, resolve settling around their heart. “But not anymore. I owe that to you.”

Varian held their gaze. “You’ve saved me twice now. From the temple and from that bandit; if- if anything, _I’m_ the one who owes _you.”_

“I’d say we’re even.” They were close. Perilune could make out each freckle dotting his skin, from the collection scattered across his cheeks and nose to the faint, solitary mark at the corner of his lips-

Varian looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. He cleared his throat. “Uh, good. That’s good.” Warmth crept back into his cheeks, which Perilune found adorable. He seemed to cast about for a change in topic, before a genuine thought occurred to him. “Perilune, I… I don’t mean to pry, but… why did you join them in the first place?”

Perilune gave him a sad smile. “I was five when my parents passed away. Fever, the both of them. I… was too young to really remember what a family was like. The Servants took me in, made me feel cared about. Compared to stealing or begging on the streets, it… seemed like the better option. And, though it might sound odd, their beliefs gave me hope. Hope that all the cruelty I saw each day could be wiped out, so people wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.” They sighed, picking at their arm bracer absentmindedly. “Of course, only now do I see that I was wrong. Evil cannot be defeated in humanity, only in humans.”

Varian was silent for a moment. “So- so you never thought about leaving?” he asked.

“I had nowhere else to go.” Perilune shrugged. “Besides, the penalty for leaving is death.”

Varian jolted, staring at them with wide eyes. _“What?”_

“Once you pledge your soul to the moon, trying to revoke it is a mortal sin, far beyond any repentance. In my time with the Servants, it’s only happened once.” Perilune’s throat tightened, memories resurfacing like old, aching wounds- the acrid scent of smoke in the air, the heat of the flames, and above all, the screams. “But they did not show mercy.”

Varian seemed to read their expression. He put a tentative hand on their shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know they were like that, but I should’ve guessed…” His gaze hardened. “They have to be stopped.”

“It’s alright,” Perilune said gently. “You’re safe from them now. And once we get to the capital, we can tell King Frederic.”

Apprehension flashed across Varian’s face at the mention of the king, there and gone in an instant. “You think he’ll help?”

Perilune paused. “Of course. He’s the king.”

Varian lowered his gaze. “Yeah, well, doesn’t mean he always acts like one.”

Perilune wondered at the meaning behind his words, but Varian had turned away, effectively ending the conversation. It occurred to them that they really knew nothing about his past, other than what High Priest Umbra had said at the ritual. But whatever it was, he obviously didn’t want to talk about it, and they weren’t going to press the matter. He’d had his entire life upturned in a single night; they didn’t want him to feel like he had no right to privacy, no control. So, they were content to just ride in silence.

And if Varian decided he wanted to talk, Perilune would be there for him.

~*~

Parallax frowned as he examined the faint hoofprints, keeping a tight hold on his reins.

The palomino mare was skittish around him, unfamiliar. His own steed, Saros, had been stolen in the escape. Insult to injury. It’d regulated him to borrow Albedo’s horse, who’d been knocked unconscious in the temple collapse and was in no condition to ride. His swords were also conspicuously missing, and there were several reports that they were in the possession of the traitorous Patron. A failure Albedo would likely be paying for upon his awakening.

Parallax touched a gloved hand to the prints, grunting disapproval. “Might be Saros’,” he said to the two men watching him. “Shape is right. Ground’s too stiff to tell the weight, though.”

They needed a good rain. Dry ground made for poor tracking, especially with the grass as short as it was. Damn deer were getting overpopulated.

One of his fellow Templars shifted, swords clanking in their sheaths. “Two of us can follow the trail while the others continue flanking the forest. When Zenith returns, we can-”

There was a rustling sound in the underbrush, making all three men tense in alertness. Zenith emerged, pulling a masked man forward by the arm. The other Templar had gone scouting ahead a half hour back, and it seemed he wasn’t returning empty-handed.

Zenith roughly pushed the man forward, onto his knees. “I believe this lowlife may prove helpful to our search,” he said, voice steely beneath his helm.

Parallax straightened up and approached the bandit, easily towering over him with his broad stature. “We are searching for two children; a blue-eyed boy with black hair, and a child with dark skin and a long braid. They’re traveling on a gray horse.” The bandit’s expression changed, and Parallax tilted his head. “You’ve met them, haven’t you?”

It was hardly a question. “Look,” the bandit said quickly, “I was just staking out the road, waitin’ for a horse to come by so I could get to the next province, and they happened to come along- but hey, I _swear_ I didn’t hurt ‘em, okay?”

Parallax flipped his visor up and knelt down, meeting the other man’s gaze evenly. “Take ease, friend. We only want to know where they are.”

The bandit hesitated. “I… I found ‘em at Grimm’s Lake, but that was hours ago. I’ve no clue where they went after.”

Grimm’s Lake. That was a start. Parallax glanced up at the sky, picturing stars not yet visible. He traced the paths they laid out, connecting the dots from the Temple to the lake, and looking beyond. A pattern emerged, as one always did, and Parallax smiled.

“I know where they’ll be,” he said, straightening up. He dropped his visor back down and turned away from the bandit, waving a hand dismissively. “We can cut them off before they reach the capital bridge.”

Zenith nodded and drew his swords, the order going unspoken.

“H- hey,” the bandit stammered. “What are you-”

Parallax didn’t even glance over at the sound of blades cutting through flesh, a head toppling to the ground. He swung back into his saddle, drawing the reins up short.

“We must retrieve the Moon Child at any cost,” he said. “For the glory of the moon!”

“For the glory of the moon!” the Templars echoed. Hooves pounded against the ground as they took off deeper into the forest, and Parallax was filled with cold, fierce determination.

They would not fail a second time.

~*~


	5. crescent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi readers! These updates keep coming later and later in the day, but as long as it's still Saturday, I'm technically still on schedule. Read on and enjoy, and please consider leaving a review! - Aqua

_chapter five - crescent_

~*~

Varian watched stars slowly appear against the dark sky.

The fire roared away in its makeshift pit, filling the air with the homely sounds of splitting tinder. Their little campsite was nestled in the roots of a large oak tree, a few feet away from a calmly flowing river. Saros stood a few paces off, head ducked in contented sleep.

Leaning against the tree trunk, Varian absentmindedly fidgeted with clumps of woven river weeds, gradually dismantling his earlier creation and tossing bits into the fire. It hadn’t taken long for him to weave the sturdy reeds into a snare trap, a skill that had delighted Perilune. Though it secured them both a dinner of fish, caught fresh from the river, they seemed more interested in the novelty of it. They’d asked him where he’d learned, which led to the dismal mood he was in now, because he’d learned from Dad.

Perilune had picked up on it and been kind enough to give him some space, retreating into the surrounding underbrush to gather more firewood. While Varian knew they were easily within hearing distance, he couldn’t help the cinching feeling in his stomach at being separated.

At the same time, he was glad for the space, because recent revelations had made the painful memories even more so. Every memory of his Dad felt… _tainted,_ almost, with the knowledge that he’d kept such a big secret from Varian. He let his head tip back against the oak, blowing his bangs out of his eyes with a sigh. Talking about it wasn’t an option; Perilune didn’t even know that he was responsible for Dad’s death. How could they?

Varian wondered what they’d think, if they knew. That the Moon Child was nothing but a criminal, of the worst kind. In his opinion, he was the last person who should have powers like he did. He’d already proven himself reckless at best when left to his own devices- why had fate seen it fit to entrust him with even _more_ potential for devastation? Hadn’t he done enough harm?

The moon, glowing softly in the sky, offered up no answers.

Abruptly, the sound of twigs snapping pulled Varian out of his thoughts. He looked over as Perilune emerged from the trees, arms full of sticks and branches. They gave him an easy smile before kneeling beside the fire, poking a bit more wood into the flames before piling the rest of it aside and settling down next to him.

Varian averted his eyes, twisting the last reed in his hands. Over and over until it snapped, and he cast it away into the fire.

“Varian.”

Perilune’s voice wasn’t quite a question, because the question would be _‘are you alright?’_ and the answer to that was clear. 

Nevertheless, Varian felt compelled to reply. “It still doesn’t make sense to me.” He tucked his knees to his chest. “These- these _powers_ I have, what am I even supposed to do with them? Why did it have to be me? Why didn’t I die instead of my mother? Why-” His voice cracked. “… why did this _happen?”_

“Varian…” Perilune shifted closer, and he felt the gentle weight of their hand on his shoulder. “The moon chose you for a reason.”

Varian pulled away, his throat closing up. “How- how can you say that?” he asked, raking a hand through his hair. “You don’t know anything about me, what I’ve _done…”_

Perilune didn’t seem swayed. “I don’t need to _know,_ I see it in your eyes.”

Varian shook his head. “No. You don’t- you don’t understand-”

“Then help me,” Perilune said simply.

Varian held their gaze, torn. His heart beat madly in his chest. He needed Perilune to understand, yes, but at the same time it scared him. For what seemed like the first time, he’d found someone who’d gotten to know him for who he was, no prior expectations or judgments. It was freeing, just to be around them as _Varian,_ not the Alchemist, a criminal or a madman, or even the Moon Child. What if this changed the way they saw him? What if they hated him?

He bit his lip. If they hated him, it’d be nothing less than what he deserved. Nodding slightly, he glanced away, staring into the open flames of the campfire, and took a deep breath.

“When those Templars kidnapped me, I was already a prisoner.”

~*~

_The kidnapping had gone off without a hitch._

_Varian could almost laugh at it, how easily he’d played them all, but he was short on humor these days. And he wasn’t in the clear yet- his job was far from done._

_The queen remained silent as he shackled her, but he could feel the weight of her eyes on him. Double checking that the cuff was secure around her ankle, Varian untied her wrists, meeting her concerned gaze with a sneer._

_“Might as well make yourself comfortable,” he said dryly, stepping away. “It’ll take them a couple hours to get here.”_

_“Varian,” the queen said. “Please think this through. We will find a way to save your father, but-”_

_“My father is dead, Your Majesty.” Varian forced the words out, his blunt tone betraying none of the pain they caused him._

_After his plea for help had been rejected by the princess, he’d come home to find an even bigger nightmare in the form of glistening amber. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that there were no signs of life within. No breathing, no heartbeat- denial had even driven him to build a device that detected brain activity, to no avail._

_Dad was dead._

_The queen’s eyes widened, a wave of emotions cracking through her carefully constructed mask. But only for a moment- she appeared to sort through them at a rapid pace before schooling her features once more. She met his gaze evenly._

_“Then what do you hope to gain by this?” she asked, her voice soft._

_The queen’s composure in the face of such horror was cruel, crueler than he’d thought her capable of. Varian was filled with rage, a sudden fire so intense it burned everything else away. Before he knew it, his fist had closed around the nearest object- an empty beaker. It smashed against the wall, the shatter of glass on stone helping to soothe the heat in his veins (as well as push down the voice in his head that pointed out the reason in the queen’s words, the same voice that kept trying to insist this was all his fault)._

_Varian inhaled sharply through gritted teeth, struggling to control his breathing. Finally, he narrowed his eyes at the queen._

_“Revenge,” he spat. “And closure.”_

_The note gripped in Dad’s hand, written in his final moments- Varian couldn’t read it as it was. He’d spent days agonizing over it, trying to decipher words on crumpled paper and distorted by amber, to no avail._

_“He deserves a proper burial,” Varian added, blinking away the sudden sting to his eyes. “At the very least, I’d give him that.”_

_“Varian, this isn’t the answer-”_

_“No. No, I- I’ve tried everything else, this is- this is the only way.” Varian’s voice wavered a little, despite himself, and he shook his head. “It’s the only way,” he repeated._

_Varian turned away from the queen; back to the task at hand._

_What followed after had been a blur. Sprung traps and ultimatums and the unfolding of his carefully constructed plan. His automatons were handling the assault beautifully, and the royals were helpless in his grasp. He’d done everything just right- up until the princess’s hair proved, inexplicably, unable to break the amber. Defying everything that’d suggested otherwise, defying all the hopes he’d staked on it, defying any sense he’d been able to make of it all. And that carefully constructed plan shattered into pieces, in exactly the way the amber wouldn’t._

_The mech wasn’t even called for in the original plan; it was a testament to nothing more than his thorough preparation, but it’d certainly come in handy. Varian still remembered the way he’d been trembling as he climbed inside, his rage and anguish so strong it’d blocked everything else out. He’d thought that if he couldn’t get closure, he’d at least get his revenge, and maybe that would feel the same. Maybe it’d be enough._

_He was wrong._

_Looking back, Varian knew he ought to have cut and run after his plan to break the amber didn’t work. Then at least he wouldn’t be sitting in a cell awaiting trial. But in fairness, he’d still thought he’d had the upper hand. How was he to know the princess would connect with the black rocks, and use them to defeat him?_

_(And wasn’t **that** convenient, that she was able to do so only when the people **she** cared about were in danger. He might’ve been onto something, threatening the queen with the amber growth.)_

_In any case, he was paying for it. His trial was tomorrow, and as far as he was concerned, his life was over. Whether they’d go so far as to execute him, he wasn’t certain. Not that he hadn’t done enough to warrant it. But life in prison wasn’t any more appealing._

_No, he’d well and truly ruined any chance at having a life that meant anything. He’d failed Dad in every sense of the word, even in death- what a sorry excuse for a son he was. Bitterness curled around Varian’s heart, scabbing over the open wound that bled there._

_This was their fault, all of it, and whatever happened tomorrow, he could content himself with the knowledge that everything he’d done they’d brought upon themselves._

~*~

In the silence that followed, the crackling of the fire was almost deafening.

Varian couldn’t meet Perilune’s eyes, terrified of what he’d see there. “Now you know. So… so how can you st- still believe that I’m- I’m capable of anything but destruction? After e- everything I’ve done, I don’t deserve-” His voice broke, vision suddenly blurred with tears.

Soft hands cupped his cheeks, tilting his face up. Varian’s eyes met Perilune’s, and the sheer emotion there was staggering. There was no hatred, no disgust or horror or disappointment. No fear. Just… understanding. A knowing look that managed to feel comforting, rather than condescending. And something tender that made his heart skip a beat.

“Varian,” Perilune said gently. “Your mistakes don’t define you. There is so much more in you, I’ve seen it. I’ve _felt_ it. The path you’re on now might not be clear, but I know it will end up alright. You’re good, Varian.”

Varian’s breathing hitched. The thought that someone could still _see_ something in him, something of worth, despite everything he’d done… he almost didn’t believe it. It was like they were looking not at what he’d done in the past, but who he was now, and what he _could_ be.

Perilune _believed_ in him. The feeling was unfamiliar, but suddenly he didn’t know how he’d lived without it.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll try to be,” Varian said finally, when he’d found his voice.

Perilune drew their hands away, almost looking shy. “I’m happy you trusted me enough to tell me.”

Varian blinked at that. “That’s… the first time I’ve talked about it.” The realization was slightly jarring. Of course, other people had tried to talk to him, to talk _at_ him, rather, but he hadn’t engaged with any of them. When his anger and hatred and desire for revenge left him, only a few short days into his sentence when he’d finally accepted that Dad’s death was _his_ fault, he’d fallen into a black hole of despair that no one had been able to pull him out of.

Until now.

“How long has it been?” Perilune asked quietly.

“Two months.” Somehow that didn’t seem to fit. It felt like Varian had been carrying this pain forever. But at the same time, the memories were so vivid and his emotions so raw that it felt like it’d happened only yesterday.

“That must have been hard.” Warm firelight flickered across Perilune’s face, glistening against the silver ink on their cheek. Their eyes shone, and Varian couldn’t look away.

“I guess I just… didn’t see the point. In anything,” he admitted faintly. His cheeks were heated- probably from the fire. “It felt like I- like I had nothing left.”

“That’s not true.” Perilune took his hands in their own.

The look in their eyes said, _‘You have me.’_

Varian’s breath caught again, for an entirely different reason. Their hands felt warm and right in his, and he was suddenly hyper aware of how their knees were touching, the way Perilune was slightly leaning forward. He found his gaze straying to their lips, and a voice in the back of his mind whispered _maybe?_

Heart racing, he started to move in, tilting his head up to meet Perilune-

Varian turned away, pulling his hands back. “R- right.” He was getting carried away. Perilune was too good for someone like him. He’d just ruin it, like he ruined everything. “We should- we should probably get some rest.”

“Of course.” Perilune’s tone was hard to read. “I’ll wake you if anything-”

“Please, let me take the first shift,” Varian said quickly. His stomach was in knots, so it was unlikely he’d fall asleep anytime soon. “I’ve been pretty much sleeping all day, it’s- it’s the least I can do.”

The corner of Perilune’s mouth pulled up in a fond smile. “As you wish.”

As the night wore on, Varian listened to the soft crackling of the campfire and Perilune’s deep breathing and forced himself to forget the way that smile had made him feel.

Fate would never be that kind to him.

~*~

Varian stared at the distant lights of the castle, apprehension fluttering in his chest.

They’d departed early that morning, Varian’s mind still fuzzy with sleep. They didn’t end up talking much throughout the day (whether it was simply their fatigue getting to them, or lingering awkwardness from the night before, Varian didn’t know), and thankfully traveled without incident. It might have even been peaceful, hours spent riding through the forest in amiable silence, if he were able to forget what they were running from.

He didn’t feel as overwhelmed as he had the day before, but all it took was one wandering thought for the horror to return to the forefront of his mind. Besides that, the fear of recapture was very real. The last thing he wanted was to end up in the Servant’s clutches again, longing for the security that the castle’s walls would bring.

Now, with their destination looming ahead of them, Varian wasn’t sure what he felt.

He’d been so caught up in just getting away from the temple that he hadn’t had a chance to think about what exactly he was returning to. Reluctant as he was to give up his freedom again, he knew he didn’t really have any other options. Escape was a notion that had occurred to him only once, briefly, and he hadn’t acted on it. The simple fact was that there was nothing left for him, anywhere.

Perilune seemed to sense his trepidation. They took his hand, making him glance over his shoulder at them. “Hey. Whatever happens, I’ll be here with you, okay?”

Varian swallowed, squeezing their hand. “Okay.”

Perilune gave him a reassuring smile before prompting Saros forward at a light pace, not wanting to push the overworked horse. Varian twisted his fingers in Saros’s mane and took a shaky breath as they drew ever closer to the capital bridge.

At least he knew what to expect. With the Servants, there was no telling what they’d do if they got ahold of him. And he wasn’t alone, Perilune’s presence behind him a comforting reminder.

A small, hesitant part of him hoped that maybe, _maybe,_ Perilune would stay. He didn’t know what they planned to do after all of this was over. He didn’t even really know how they felt about him, if he’d been finding false meanings in every lingering glance or brush of their hand. He didn’t know how he _wanted_ them to feel about him. All he knew was that with Perilune beside him, he didn’t feel so afraid, and that had to count for something.

“Varian?” Perilune’s voice startled him from his thoughts. They sounded… uncertain.

Varian’s stomach gave a nervous jolt. “Yes?”

Perilune hesitated. “I just… before we get to the castle, I wanted to let you know that I-”

There was a shout from the surrounding woods, and four horses crashed through the undergrowth. Their riders were instantly recognizable, bronze armor gleaming in the moonlight.

The Templars.

Varian’s mind went blank with terror. Perilune’s arm wrapped around his middle before they shouted, “Saros, _go!”_

Saros broke into a gallop, his breathing labored. Varian lurched forward, Perilune’s arm around him the only thing keeping him from falling off. Though he wasn’t at his full speed, Saros was able to gain distance from the pursuing Templars. The bridge drew ever closer, they were almost there-

Saros abruptly tipped over, like his legs had been pulled out from under him. The forward momentum threw both of them from the horse’s back.  
Varian landed hard, but if Perilune’s pained cry was anything to go by, not as hard as they had. He pushed himself up and shook his head, dazed. His eyes struggled to focus, to find Perilune-

They’d landed a few feet away from him, curled up on their side. They were clutching their right leg, the fabric across the top of their thigh stained a dark red. Through the tear in the robes, Varian could see a wide gash- they’d sliced their leg along a sharp rock during the landing.

Saros, though downed, seemed unharmed, struggling against the netting that tangled his legs together. It was a trap, Varian realized, strung between two trees framing the road, and they’d run right into it.

The Templars were headed their way.

Forcing down his nausea at the sight of blood, Varian pushed himself to his feet and hurried to Perilune’s side, his abused muscles screaming in protest.

“Perilune! Perilune, get up!” Varian fell to his knees beside them. The sharp tang of blood made his stomach turn. “C- come on, we have to get to Saros-”

“There’s no time. They’ll overtake us on the bridge.” Perilune’s face was tight with pain. “Just go. Saros can go faster if he’s only carrying you, and I can buy you enough time to get to the castle.”

Varian’s heart dropped. “No, _no,_ I- we can both make it, please-”

 _“Varian.”_ Perilune clutched his shirt desperately. “You have to go. _Now._ I’ll hold them off as long as I can. Just leave me, and get to safety.” Their grip on the fabric tightened for a moment before they pushed him away, and reached for their swords. “Go! I’ll be okay.”

Varian’s ears were ringing.

 _‘The penalty for leaving is death,’_ they’d said. If Varian left now, and was even somehow able to convince someone to come help, it’d be too late. Perilune would already be dead; he felt the certainty deep in his bones.

How could Perilune expect him to just leave them to die? After everything they’d done and sacrificed, all for _him,_ for the sake of doing what was right-

_‘The moon chose you for a reason.’_

Varian looked over at the Templars, dismounted and advancing with swords drawn. His jaw tightened. He glanced back down at Perilune, meeting their gaze. Within the depths of indigo blue, skimming underneath the pain and fear, there was resolve and ferocity and love-

Love?

_‘I suppose that when someone truly believes in something, they’ll do anything for it, even give their life.’_

Varian hadn’t understood then, but maybe he was starting to. He moved without thinking, a hand cradling Perilune’s head as he pressed their lips together.

It was a quick kiss; a blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment between them. Desperate and impulsive and not at all calculated, but it left him breathless anyways. He pulled away and allowed himself but one precious second to take in Perilune’s expression- the wide eyes and flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips- before turning to face the Templars.

Love.

The moon might have its reasons, but he’d let this be his.

For the first time, Varian called to the darkness inside him, diving headfirst into the deep. Cold flooded his senses, and he welcomed it. All his fear, his uncertainty, his desperation- he laid it bare. Those icy claws sank into the most vulnerable parts of him and _twisted,_ changing them to fury, to might, to determination. He was overwhelmed with the need to _protect,_ a feeling so intense even his bones hummed with it.

The darkness roared defiance, and Varian roared with it.

Electricity gathered in his fingertips, sharp pain taking root in his nerves as the energy coursed through his body. But this time, it was bearable. He reigned it in enough to stop it from consuming him, the way it wanted to; a shaky grip on the edge of oblivion- but it was enough.

The Templars had stopped short, and Varian didn’t need to look to know he was glowing, light obscuring the edges of his vision. He could feel energy churning around him like wind. With a furious scream, he pushed his hands out towards them, and the energy followed, crashing forward like a wave.

White light struck the ground in a shower of sparks, deep cracks splitting open the earth. The Templars dove in different directions, but they weren’t faster than light. Varian landed hits on the helmets of two, jagged scorch marks burning into the metal as they collapsed, unconscious. The other two managed to roll out of the way, but Varian caught one of them before he could recover, sending him sprawling in a flash of white.

The last Templar circled him warily, a hand held out in a placating gesture. “Moon Child,” he called. “Calm down. We do not wish to harm you.”

Varian tilted his head. He recognized this one’s voice; the Templar who’d led his kidnapping. He remembered how this man had made him feel- the fear and distress and helplessness, and his lip curled into a snarl.

Sharply, he swept a hand out to the side. An explosion of light at the Templar’s feet sent him flying, head smacking against a tree with a loud crack. He fell to the ground in a heap of armor and twitching limbs.

The clearing was still and silent, all four Templars lying unconscious.

Breathless, Varian stumbled backwards. Pain was a hammer against his skull, quickly overwhelming him. A spark of panic cut through the white haze, bringing him back to himself. His grip was slipping.

Varian’s legs buckled. He fought for consciousness, slipping through his fingers like sand. The ground rushed up to meet him, and everything faded to black.

~*~

Perilune tucked Varian closer to them, their other hand gripping Saros’s mane as he galloped across the bridge.

Varian was limp in their arms, barely conscious. His face was worryingly pale. The use of his powers seeming to have sapped all his strength when he hadn’t even been fully recovered from the ritual yet.

It had been a struggle for Perilune to get Saros untied and both of them up on his back with their injured leg, but eventually they’d managed. The Templars had remained unconscious, thankfully, left crumpled on the ground as Saros raced into the capital.

Perilune’s leg burned at the movement, and they grit their teeth. It wasn’t deep, and would be fine once it’d received medical attention. They pushed it to the back of their mind for the time.

The castle was straight ahead, just another minute more. Saros was coughing, his flanks frothed with sweat, so Perilune eased him into a walk as they steadily approached the castle gate. It gave them a chance to catch their breath as well, lightly brushing the hair from Varian’s face to double check that he was alright.

They could hardly believe what they’d seen. He’d used his powers… to save them. He’d defended them, taking on four Templars by himself. Perilune’s thumb lingered at the corner of Varian’s lips, the memory making their heart race again.

That kiss… had it just been a result of the heat of the moment? Or was it possible Varian felt the same way? It seemed too good to be true.

But now wasn’t the time to contemplate what it’d meant. Once Varian was safe and the Servants were taken care of, then Perilune could worry about such things-

There was a sudden snap in their ear, making them jolt.

Perilune turned their head to see a paper posted on the wall of the building beside them, flapping in the slight wind. A sudden gust caught it and pressed it flat against the stone, revealing its contents; it was a sketch of Varian, words boldly inked beneath. Perilune’s stomach dropped.

_‘Varian – dangerous criminal at large.’_

They’d only just processed the words when shouts of alarm filled the air.

Varian was ripped from their arms the same moment Perilune was pulled from Saros’s back, strong arms wrapping around their middle. Instinctively, they tried to fight, but more hands pressed down on them, snatching their swords away. Ropes were thrown around Saros’s neck, lashing the horse down as he tried to rear.

Amidst the panic, Perilune registered flashes of red and gold- the royal guards, not the Templars. The realization was enough to make them pause for a moment, chest heaving.

“Wait-”

Cold steel cuffs snapped around Perilune’s wrists, clanking against their bracers. Hands seized them by the elbows, pulling them back. Varian was similarly restrained, his haggard face twisted in pain. He cried out weakly, gaze clouded with fear and confusion.

_“Varian!”_

Perilune strained against the guards holding them. An absent part of them knew their struggling was probably making things worse, but the thought was drowned out by the sheer terror they felt watching Varian be dragged away. Pain shot up their injured leg, making their eyes sting.

“Wait, wait, stop!” they gasped out. “Please, he’s not well- you’ll hurt him!”

Their protests went unacknowledged as the guards forced them away, Varian being taken in a different direction. He disappeared from view, Saros’s panicked whinnies fading behind them as Perilune was ushered up to the castle and inside.

“What are you going to do with Varian? Where are you taking him?” Perilune’s voice echoed in the tall hallways, the thud of the guard’s boots nearly drowning it out. “He isn’t dangerous, _please,_ don’t hurt him-”

Their little group stopped abruptly beside a thick wooden door. One of the guards broke away and pulled it open, jutting his chin out at it. The other guards shoved Perilune inside, the unexpected weight on their bad leg making them stagger.

Perilune caught their balance and turned back to the guards, eyes wide. “Wait, don’t-”

The door slammed shut and the lock turned, trapping Perilune inside. With a despairing cry, they beat their shackled fists against the wood, their eyes spilling over with tears.

_"Varian!"_

~*~


	6. new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, readers, here we are! I have to say, this has been a wonderful experience for me. This is the first multi-chapter fic I've done, and I'm super proud of myself for sticking with a schedule and finishing it. I'd like to say a huge thank you for all your support along the way, and I hope you'll stick with me in the future!
> 
> This is only the first part of the series. The next part will be a one-shot, and all I can say right now is that it'll be up sometime in March :P Please let me know what you thought of the story, and I'll see you guys soon! <3 - Aqua

_chapter six – new_

~*~

Perilune paced back and forth, worrying at the shackles around their wrists.

The room they were locked in wasn’t a proper cell. It was probably an extra sitting room, with carpeted floors and paneled walls. No windows, which was likely why it’d been chosen, and the only furniture was a pair of cabrioles flanking a polished wooden table, a ceramic vase of flowers sitting on top.

It was an absurdly quaint setting for the situation Perilune was in. They’d managed to get their crying under control, the tears still wet on their face. Their breathing was stuttering, and they had to bite their lip to stop themselves from losing it again. It wouldn’t help anything for Perilune to be in hysterics when someone finally came by to talk to them.

It’d only been five or ten minutes since they were locked in, but it was _agonizing._ Every second they were in here was another second they didn’t know if Varian was okay. Logically, Perilune knew that they were unlikely to hurt him- he’d been their prisoner in the first place, but that gave them no incentive to cause him harm. The odds were they’d just returned him to a cell for the time being. However, the knowledge did nothing to ease the horrible anxiety building in Perilune’s chest.

No one truly knew the inner workings of Varian’s powers. What if he’d pushed himself too hard? What if something had happened? What if he was all alone, scared and confused and in pain-

Perilune looked over at the sound of a lock turning. The door cracked open, and a guard slipped in, pulling it closed behind him.

“Please, sir, where’s Varian?” Perilune asked, unable to help themselves. “Is he alright?”

The guard locked the door.

Perilune paused, eyes narrowing. There was a knife in the guard’s fist.

“Sir…?” Perilune asked warily, their heart starting to race.

The guard turned to Perilune, eyes flashing with murderous intent. He wrapped his other hand around the knife’s hilt, and that was the only warning before he sprang forward, blade aimed at their throat.

Perilune managed to avoid the first strike, staggering back before the knife could bite into their skin. Their injured leg buckled beneath them, making them falter, and the man seized the opportunity to tackle them to the ground.

Perilune landed hard, their head slamming back against the floor with enough force for their teeth to rattle. Pain exploded across the back of their skull, leaving them dazed. Before they knew it, the man was on top of them, knife held high above his head before he plunged it towards their chest.

Instinctively, Perilune threw their hands up, bracing themselves for pain-

Their shackles saved them, the tip of the knife snagging in one of the chain’s links. Perilune’s locked arms shook from the strain of holding it back, the man pressing down with all his weight. 

Perilune grit their teeth, their muscles screaming from the effort. They couldn’t hold him forever, they realized, an odd sort of clarity breaking through the haze of shock and panic. He was going to overpower them, and there would be nothing to stop the blade from sinking into their heart-

There was the telltale sound of a lock turning, a shout of alarm from the doorway.

The man’s eyes darted away for only a second- it was all the distraction Perilune needed.

Gathering all their strength, they gave a sharp push upward with their arms and bashed the hilt of the knife up into the man’s chin, his head snapping back from the blow. In the same movement, their legs wrapped around his waist, locking their ankles together, and with one great kick they threw him over their head; he hit the ground with a loud thud, and the knife skittered out of his grip. Scrambling to their feet, Perilune wasted no time and snatched the vase off the table, bringing it down on the man’s head with a resounding _crack._

The vase shattered on impact, and he crumpled to the ground amid a spray of ceramic shards.

Perilune dropped the jagged end of the vase and turned to face their unintentional saviors, breathless and shaking. Standing in the doorway, flanked by three guards, stood a man who could only be King Frederic, from the blue and gold robes to the crown upon his head.

The guards had their swords drawn, their attention torn between Perilune and the unconscious man on the floor. Perilune might have been inclined to put their hands up, as a show of good faith, but they were beyond caring at this point.

They’d been attacked, injured, arrested, separated from Varian, chained and locked up without so much as a word, and attacked again. It might’ve been the leftover adrenaline, but at that moment it didn’t matter to Perilune what they thought of them. The time for being cautious and timid and obedient was over. All they wanted was to end this, once and for all. 

“What’s going on?” King Frederic demanded.

Catching their breath, Perilune leveled their gaze at the king. “My name is Perilune. You have a spy in your midst, Your Majesty.” They got straight to the point, knowing that time was of the essence. “It might be wise to gather the rest of your guards; it’s unlikely he was working alone.”

“A spy? Working for who?”

“The Servants of the Lunar Temple.” Perilune knelt beside the unconscious man, grabbing his limp hand. “Only Templars do undercover work. Only people who have grown up with the Servants are selected to be Templars. And if you’ve grown up with the Servants, it’ll show.”

Perilune tugged the man’s glove off, grim satisfaction setting their jaw. His wrist bore the familiar marks of old whippings; raised white scars crisscrossing his skin. No one who grew up within the Servitude could avoid punishment forever.

King Frederic frowned, doubtful. “And how do you know this?”

In answer, Perilune slipped off their bronze arm bracer, baring their wrist to show the similar scars that marred their skin.

“You could search them for their tattoos as well,” Perilune added, pointing to their own across their left cheek, “but that’ll be more of a hassle, take longer. They’re very careful to give Templars marks that can be readily concealed.”

“Why would they have you killed?”

“To silence me. They know that if I expose them to you, they won’t be able to-” Perilune’s heart jolted. _“Varian._ Where’s Varian?”

“Varian? Why?”

“If they get to him again-”

“Again?”

“Yes, _again!_ They took him once, they’ll do it again and they won’t stop until they succeed or are destroyed- _Your Majesty.”_ They were wasting time. “Please, I’ll explain everything later, but Varian’s safety should be your top priority right now.”

King Frederic blinked before determination settled in his eyes, and he turned expectantly to his guards. Wordlessly, the three men each pulled their gloves off, showing clear, unbroken skin.

“Good.” King Frederic nodded. “Captain, you’re staying here with this young…” He gave Perilune a questioning look.

It took Perilune a second to realize. “Person,” they supplied.

“Person,” King Frederic nodded, “until this is all handled. No one comes in unless I’m with them.” He was addressing a mustached man with a plumed helmet, who gave a sharp salute.

“Understood, sir.”

“You two, with me,” King Frederic said to the others. “And bring _him_ along,” he added, narrowing his eyes at the unconscious Templar.

They departed without another word, the guards dragging the Templar away. The captain locked the door behind them, tucking the key in his belt. Swallowing their uncertainty, Perilune sat down, working their bracer back on. The cuffs clinked around their wrists uncomfortably.

“Sir…” Perilune ventured. “What… what do we do now?”

The captain gave them a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid all we can do is wait,” he said gently. “Don’t worry, His Majesty will get this taken care of before you know it.”

Perilune worried anyway.

~*~

_“Perilune!”_

Varian’s eyes snapped open.

He bolted upright, registering a blanket tangled around him on a familiar bed. His heart jolted as he recognized his cell- the bare stone walls, dusty stone floor, and the thick wooden door. He was- he was in the castle? But when had he- how was-

_Where was Perilune?_

Varian’s breath caught at the memory- blood on Perilune’s clothes and glinting armor- and he all but fell out of bed, scrambling to his feet. He glanced at the door; there had to be a guard around, maybe they’d explain what happened, tell him where Perilune was, if they were okay-

Something jerked him back, his arms nearly popping out of their sockets.

He was shackled to the bed, the cold, hard steel heavy around his wrists. A well of panic opened up inside his chest, flooding his body with the desperate need to be _free-_

_He was trapped, chains dragging by his feet, and when the Templars came, he couldn’t fight back. Through the temple and into the chamber they dragged him- hands behind his back, rope burn on his skin, blood on his face- and he was left helpless, overwhelmed by the ice that lived in his soul and everything was pain and light and screaming and no, no, no-_

Varian strained towards the door. “H- hello?” he called, his voice shaking. “Hello, is- is anyone there? _Please,_ somebody, a- anybody!”

There was no response. He was alone.

 _“No,”_ Varian gasped. “Please, please, no, I have to- I have to know that they’re okay! Where’s Perilune? Are they okay? _Please,_ someone answer me!”

If he could get to the door, maybe someone would hear him. Metal dug into his wrists as he pulled in vain. Skin already rubbed raw started to crack and bleed, but Varian took no notice. He just had to get to the door. Then everything would be okay, because he’d know that Perilune was safe and unharmed and that nothing had happened after he’d blacked out that would take them away from him and all he had to do was _get to the door-_

A despairing cry tore from his throat. The chains wouldn’t budge, and he was staggered with the realization that he was helpless once again, locked up and shut away while other people decided his fate. Tears blurred his vision and suddenly he couldn’t breathe, the walls pressing down on him. His frantic heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning everything else out.

Rationality was a crumbling ledge, and Varian didn’t realize he’d let go until he was already falling.

~*~

The room was almost overbearingly quiet.

Perilune sat tense at the table, absently picking at their bracers. It must’ve been a couple hours, now, since the king had left, and they had no idea what was happening outside. Were there any more Templars hiding among the guard’s ranks? 

The captain, having elected to stand, made a rough attempt at conversation. “What, uh, happened to your leg, there?” he asked.

“It is fine,” Perilune said dismissively. The gash in their thigh stung, but as long as they didn’t move, it was bearable. It wasn’t high on their list of concerns at the moment. “I’d much rather talk about Varian. Do you know where they’ve taken him? How he is?”

The captain looked uncomfortable. “I’m not at leisure to say anything on the matter.”

Perilune swallowed their disappointment. “Of course.”

There was a sudden knock at the door, making them both tense. The captain gave Perilune a look that said, _‘stay here’_ and approached the door, his hand drifting to his sword.

“Who’s there?” he called.

“It’s alright, Captain,” came the king’s voice. Visibly relieved, the captain unlocked the door to let him in.

Perilune stood as King Frederic entered the room. He wasn’t alone; not only were two guards with him, but there was also a woman in a white buttoned coat carrying a black medical bag- her posture and professional air indicating _doctor._ And last to enter the room was a young woman with bright green eyes, a thick braid of golden hair down her back. She could only be the formerly lost princess, the one known throughout the kingdom for her magical hair.

The Sun Child.

She was known in the Servitude. After all, the prophecy concerned her as much as it did Varian. But as it’d been Varian’s destiny to bring darkness, it’d been the princess’s destiny to perish with the light- the loser in a final cosmic battle of the sun and the moon. But Perilune didn’t believe that now; they already knew they couldn’t trust High Priest Umbra’s word about the prophecy, and since they’d never seen the ancient text themselves… as far as they knew, the whole thing could’ve been a fabrication. It was quite likely that Princess Rapunzel’s fate was interwoven with Varian’s in ways that none of them could yet anticipate.

Perilune managed to find their voice. “Your Majesty? What of the Templars?”

If King Frederic found their blunt approach distasteful, he didn’t show it. “We found one other, intercepted on his way to Varian,” he said. “Both men are being detained as we speak, and the rest of my guard have been cleared.”

Perilune exhaled shakily, almost going weak with relief. Varian was safe.

“This is Aletta.” King Frederic introduced the doctor with a wave of his hand, who nodded at Perilune. “She’s going to take a look at that leg of yours. And this is my daughter, Princess Rapunzel.”

Perilune bowed their head respectfully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”

Princess Rapunzel smiled kindly at them. “Hello, Perilune.” Her gaze fell on the cuff’s around Perilune’s wrists, and she pursed her lips. “Dad, are the shackles really necessary?” she asked, turning to the king.

“I… suppose not.” King Frederic glanced over at the captain, who nodded and pulled out a small key. He unlocked Perilune’s cuffs, and the absence of the metal helped ease the discomfort itching beneath their skin.

“Thank you,” Perilune breathed.

“Now,” King Frederic said, taking a seat at the table, his daughter sitting beside him. “I believe you promised me an explanation.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Perilune sank back down onto the couch, Aletta taking her place beside them to start treating their leg. “Until three days ago, I was a part of an… organization, the Servants of the Lunar Temple. They kidnapped Varian, so they could activate his powers.”

“Powers?” Princess Rapunzel knit her eyebrows together.

“What do you mean?” King Frederic asked.

Right, they didn’t know. “The power of the moon,” Perilune said quietly. “Varian was born with abilities prophesized to bring great devastation. The complement of your own, Your Highness,” they added, dipping their head at Princess Rapunzel. “He… had no idea he had them. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but they tried to force it, to force his powers to awaken so they could be used for destruction.” Their heart panged at the memory, how Varian had fought so hard to stop it from happening. Even at the consequence of incredible pain- they truly admired the strength of his spirit.

Princess Rapunzel looked stunned at the revelation, which was unsurprising. It had to be quite a shock for her; as far as Perilune knew, the princess had no idea about the prophecy.

“But the ritual didn’t go according to plan,” Perilune continued. “I helped him escape, and we’ve spent the last two days trying to reach you.”

“I’m… not sure I understand,” King Frederic said. “How could Varian have powers?”

Perilune spread their hands. “After the magic of the sundrop flower was… manifested, the moon sought to give its own power. To bring balance. Another celestial flower was created, and years later, Varian’s father tried to use it to save his wife, the night of Varian’s birth. She was sick, you see, almost like the queen had been. Only Varian survived.”

Princess Rapunzel’s eyes were wide, her hands covering her mouth. Perilune imagined that the story rang a little too close to home for her, and all accounts of the princess had her pegged as a bleeding heart.

King Frederic looked troubled, his brows furrowed in thought. “I see.”

After a moment of silence, Perilune spoke hesitantly. “Your Majesty… is Varian okay? He went through a lot, and last I saw him-”

“Varian is fine. Now-”

“May I see him?” Perilune knew they were being presumptuous, but they couldn’t stand it anymore. “I just- he’s probably worried sick and I want to make sure-”

“I’m afraid I’m going to need some more answers, first,” King Frederic said, not unkindly.

Perilune bit their lip, pushing down the apprehension that spiked in their chest. “Of course,” they said, their voice thick.

“Now, what exactly are these powers like?”

~*~

Varian struggled for leverage, casting about for something, _anything,_ to ground him.

“Perilune!” He thrashed madly against his chains, his voice hoarse from screaming. His wrists were bleeding freely now, but he hardly noticed over the desperate clamoring in his mind.

He couldn’t take it again. He couldn’t lose them like he’d lost his dad- _your fault your fault your fault-_ it would break him, he knew. It was a blind terror, the thought of being alone again; a ravenous creature that crawled up his throat and snatched his breath away. He just- he just needed- 

“Dad!” Fresh tears streamed down his face, flowing from the old wound in his heart. The scab had been torn anew- golden amber, _cold stiff unfeeling suffocating,_ his Dad trapped beneath, just a few scarce inches away but impossibly out of reach- no breathing, no heartbeat, and the fault was his. It was always his; _killer killer killer-_

_“Somebody!”_

No one came.

Varian’s legs finally gave out on him, and he dropped to the floor. His body shook from the force of his sobs, warm blood dripping down his stinging wrists as his palms pressed against the cold floor. It felt like he was dying, like the weight of his fears and his shortness of breath would just stop his heart.

“Please,” he whispered. It was a faithless prayer. “Please, please, I just- I just need some help. Someone p- please help. _Please.”_

Varian sank into the deep.

~*~

Rapunzel absently traced her finger along the wood grains of the table, listening to Perilune answer her dad’s latest question.

They’d been questioning Perilune for the better part of two hours, now- the doctor was long gone, having bandaged Perilune's leg, and Dad had even dismissed the other two guards after concluding Perilune wasn't a threat, only the Captain remaining. Dad was leaving nothing to chance, wanting to know everything he could about this shadowy new threat- the Servants of the Lunar Temple. He’d already dispatched some guards to the location Perilune had given them, though whether they’d find any of the culprits still around remained to be seen. The revelation of spies in their midst had left him shaken, though Rapunzel could tell only because she knew him enough to see the signs.

The thought sent chills down Rapunzel’s spine as well. The men hadn’t even been new recruits; they’d been in the royal guard for a couple years now, according to Dad, which demonstrated foresight and planning that reflected a significant level of formidability. Whoever, _whatever_ they were up against… it wasn’t to be taken lightly.

She still remembered the fear in Dad’s eyes when he’d come to find her- she’d already been startled awake by an uneasy feeling, and left her room to find the castle in disarray. Once everything had calmed down, it’d taken a lot of convincing for Dad to let her sit in on the questioning, while Mom continued to handle matters with the staff and the castle security.

This had to do with the dream Rapunzel had a couple nights ago. She couldn’t ignore it- and the shocking reveal that Varian had the power of the moon inside him only confirmed her premonition. That pain and fear she’d felt, that’d been Varian’s- the night his powers were awakened. The night of the full moon.

Rapunzel was determined to understand as much as she could, and Dad had finally relented. He’d been making good on his promise to keep her more involved, to stop keeping secrets in an effort to keep her safe. This definitely qualified.

“The swords were stolen,” Perilune was saying. “I’m not a Templar, but I have some training, and knew I might need a way to defend myself and Varian.”

“And the horse?” Dad prompted.

“Stolen, too.” Perilune lifted their chin slightly. “I did what I had to.”

“I understand,” Dad said easily. “Now, before my guards apprehended you-”

There was a knock on the door, and Stan poked his head in.

“Your Majesty? I’m sorry for interrupting.” He looked uneasy, too much so for it to be a result of his intrusion. “Sir, I’m afraid Varian is having a… difficult time. He’s quite distraught, and has been unresponsive to us. Maybe if we just let the kid talk to him…?”

Rapunzel didn’t miss the way Perilune stiffened at that, looking aghast. They stared at Stan, and Rapunzel could tell they were picturing it, flashes of worry behind their eyes.

Dad gave Stan a curt look. “Thank you, Stan, but that’s not really-”

 _“Please,”_ Perilune said quietly. “I’ve already told you everything… can’t you let me see him?” Tears gathered in the corners of their eyes. “I’m so worried.”

“There will be time to see him later,” Dad said, his voice gentle but firm. “I promise he’s not in any harm.”

Stan dipped his head and left, closing the door behind him.

Rapunzel held her tongue. She supposed that, from Dad’s point of view, it made sense to err on the side of caution. Perilune was a stranger, a self-proclaimed former member of a formidable group that had tried to destroy the world using Varian’s powers. Their intentions were still a mystery, and that combined with their knowledge of Varian’s powers made for a potentially dangerous situation.

“Now,” Dad continued. “Tell me what happened at the bridge, when those men attacked you.”

After Perilune had told them about the ambush at the bridge, Dad had sent a patrol out to the scene. There’d been no sign of the assailants, just reports of huge cracks and scorch marks in the earth.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” If Perilune was disappointed, they did a good job of hiding it. Their face was a mask as they started their story, despite the way their eyes glistened. “We’d been traveling for two days at that point. Saros was tired, we were tired, and it took us completely by surprise. There were four Templars, all on horseback. They came out of the woods and chased us into a trap, a snare set to tangle Saros’s legs.”

Rapunzel’s breath caught. Though she knew they were both safe now, she couldn’t help the sharp spike of concern that sprang up at the thought. They were both just kids, and they’d been through so much…

“We were thrown from his back,” Perilune continued, “and I hurt my leg in the fall. Varian was in poor shape too, but he came to my side. I knew that even if we’d both managed to get to Saros, the Templars would catch us before we got across the bridge. Saros just couldn’t go fast enough if he was carrying both of us. So I told Varian to go, that I’d hold the Templars off and buy him enough time to get to safety.”

Perilune’s eyes grew distant at this, caught in the memory. Rapunzel was floored at the implications. This child had been prepared to sacrifice their life for Varian- what _courage_ that must have taken.

“But he refused to leave me.” A bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of Perilune’s lips, a tender expression in their eyes that made Rapunzel’s heart twinge. “Instead, he… used his powers to fight off the Templars. It was painful, I could tell, but he did it to save me…”

Rapunzel realized with a jolt that Perilune was crying, silent tears streaming down their face as they valiantly pushed on. She could feel Dad’s surprise beside her, mirroring her own. 

“It… took everything out of him.” Perilune’s voice was shaking as they struggled to get the words out. “By the end of it, he fell unconscious…”

“That’s quite enough,” Dad said softly. “You don’t have to say any more on the matter.”

Rapunzel put a hand on Dad’s arm. “Dad. Please. Let them see Varian.” There was a line between being cautious and being cruel, and she feared they were crossing it. “It’s late, and it’s been a long, crazy night, for everyone, and I don’t see any harm in it. The danger’s passed, and any other questions can probably stand to wait until tomorrow.”

Dad hesitated, considering her words. “… you’re right, my dear,” he relented. “We can pick back up tomorrow. I’ll accompany you to Varian’s cell,” he said to Perilune, rising from his seat.

The sheer relief and gratitude in Perilune’s expression nearly knocked Rapunzel over. After everything they’d been through, their only concern was for Varian. Rapunzel had a feeling the two were closer than anyone had first assumed.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” they choked out, standing quickly.

Rapunzel looped her arm through Dad’s, her intentions clear in the gaze she leveled at him. She’d very much like to check up on Varian as well, and she knew that the longer she went without seeing him, the harder it’d be. Whatever apprehensions her dad had about Varian’s new powers and the threat they posed to her… it was better to face them head on.

Dad managed a small smile, pride shining in his eyes.

“Let’s go pay the boy a visit.”

~*~

Varian was drifting in a void.

Cold. Empty. Black. There was an echoing quality in his ears, the dull roar of his heartbeat all-encompassing. He was barely aware of anything, everything faded to this cloudy haze. It was in the shaking of his muscles and the grit of his teeth, the way his mind was trying to block the world out to spare him from its pain-

_“Varian!”_

His head snapped up at the voice. Realization broke through the veil and brought him crashing back down to himself as memories flashed through his mind- the gleam of silver ink and rich blue eyes and warm lips against his- and _Perilune._

A figure stood in the open doorway, silhouetted by the blinding light. He’d just opened his mouth to cry out, trying to push himself to his feet, when Perilune collided with him.

Varian gasped at the feeling of their arms around him, returning the embrace instantly. All he could do was hold them, as tightly as he could; he could barely breathe, crying so hard he didn’t even make a sound. He was shaking so badly he feared he’d just fall apart.

Perilune held him just as tight, and he felt the wetness of their tears on his shirt. He lost track of how long they stayed like that, how long it took for him to gather himself enough to speak.

“Is- is it you? P- Perilune?” It was almost impossible to believe, that they were really _here-_ he was scared that he was dreaming.

“Yes, my love, it’s me,” Perilune whispered. “I’m here.”

Varian took a shaky breath, dizzy with relief. “I- I thought that- I didn’t kn- know if you- if you were-” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, to name his worst nightmare.

“I know. I know.” Perilune pulled away slightly, enough to meet his gaze. Those gorgeous blue eyes were shining with emotion, and a hand came up to cup his cheek. “It’s alright. I’m here.”

Varian leaned into the touch, bringing his own hand up to clasp theirs. “Are you okay? They- they didn’t hurt you?” he asked softly.

“No, I’m fine. Your wrists,” Perilune murmured, brows creasing with worry. “What happened?”

Varian blinked at the blood on his skin. “It doesn’t matter. What- what about your leg?”

“It’s been taken care of.” Perilune brushed their thumb along his cheek. “It’s late. You should rest.”

Varian simply nodded, not finding the strength to argue otherwise. His limbs were heavy as Perilune helped him to his bed, the chains dragging along the floor. He laid his head down with a sigh, his eyelids fluttering as Perilune settled beside him.

“Pe- Perilune…” Varian didn’t want to close his eyes, for the fear that Perilune would be gone when he woke. “Please don’t go…”

“Shh, shh… just rest.” Perilune gently squeezed his hand, their other one carding through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“… promise?”

“I promise.”

Varian let his eyes shut. For the first time in days, in _months,_ he felt like he could finally sleep easy. Nightmares wouldn’t dare confront him in the strength of this promise, whether they were shadows of the past or fears of the future. If they did? Perilune’s presence beside him, their unshakable faith and steadfast resolve, gave him the courage to face them.

And besides, tomorrow was a new day.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: ALSO I can't believe I keep forgetting this, not all of you frequent tumblr so here's some official art of Perilune drawn by my amazing friend ghosta-r (formerly snowprincess-artist). Enjoy! - Aqua
> 
> http://ghosta-r.tumblr.com/post/169985885666/as-promised-its-perilune-for-those-of-you-who


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